The Complexities of Birthright
by SpinningBlack
Summary: Hermione died in the the Department of Mysteries, but a second chance at life takes her down a path she never expected. Draco is more than what he seems, and far more powerful than he ever knew. Fate bonds them, but only love can keep them together.
1. Chapter 1

**The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.**

***PLEASE READ THE A.N. AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER*  
**

* * *

**(¯`·._.· PART ONE ·._.·´¯)**

* * *

Far off in the distance  
Somewhere you can't see  
Allegiances have formed your destiny  
Opposition all around  
Feeding off your soul  
Trying hard to swallow up you whole  
And the demons all around you waiting  
For you to sell your soul

Black, Kari Kimmel

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

"Ferventis Sanguinis!"

Hermione watched Antonin Dolohov's crazed eyes widen in insane glee.

The bright purple light hit her, bringing with it an all encompassing pain that burned through her.

Blood pooled in her mouth, accompanied with an almost acidic taste. She began to choke, her body screaming for oxygen. Blood streamed down her shirt, from her mouth and her eyes and her body began to convulse. She hit the floor with a dull thud. She didn't hear the screams from her friends. She was in darkness.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Hermione woke on the floor, her face against cool gray marble. She slowly rose to her feet, expecting pain, and was surprised when there was none.

She didn't know where she was and instinctively she kept her silence, ears perked for the slightest sound. She was surrounded in mist, and could only just make out endless rows of massive marble columns stretching as far as her eyes could see. The columns were exceedingly tall, their peaks so high that she saw no ceiling. If there was a ceiling it was shrouded in more of the thick mist.

The room, if the space could be called that, had a strange stillness. The absolute silence was only broken by Hermione's increasingly panicked breaths.

Where was she? All she could remember was the pain that had roiled through her body, before snapping her into oblivion.

She began to take quick steps, the mist clearing only in the spots where she stood. She reached for the familiar weight of her wand, and her anxiety ramped into overdrive when the tool could not be found.

She braced one hand onto a nearby column, before sliding down, her back against the stone. She rested head against her knees, trying in vain to stave a panic attack.

"Where the _bleep_ am I?" She jumped. Her curse word had been replaced with an audible beep sound.

"I'm afraid that we don't allow that sort of language here, " a solemn voice said.

Hermione jumped to her feet, hair whipping around as she glanced from her left to right. She could see no one in the mists, she heard no footsteps. The voice seemed to echo around her, and at the same time reveal itself as a whisper in her ear.

"I did not mean to startle you child, I do apologize," the voice spoke again. The voice was neither male nor female, but carried a _weight_ behind it. Complete authority rang within the compelling voice.

"Where am I? Are you God? Is this Heaven or Hell?" Hermione said. She wasn't sure. This place conveyed no feeling one way or the other. It did not radiate innate goodness, but it did not feel evil either.

"This place has many names. It is a place of waiting, a holding place if you will. I am not God child, I merely work for Him," the voice said.

"Is this something like Purgatory?"

"Very like, though this is not the anteroom to Hell child. Your soul is not destined for that place, but neither is it ready for Heaven. Please have a seat, we have much to discuss."

A chair appeared before her, and she wanted to cry in recognition. It was her favorite chair from home, identical down to the small tear on the armrest. An afghan was on the back, and after sitting down Hermione wrapped herself in the thick blanket. It even smelled like home, carrying the scent of the laundry detergent her mother always used.

"I'm sure that you have many more questions," the voice said.

"Where are the pearly gates?" Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

The voice chuckled a bit. "I must confess that I didn't think that that would be your first question, but I will answer it just the same. The pearly gates do exist, in a fashion. Take a look to your right."

Hermione watched as the mist parted revealing a large golden door. A feeling of complete contentment washed over her as she gazed at the door, her fingers literally itching to turn the knob. The draw was awesome, and she maintained her seat with sheer willpower.

"Um, well. I suppose I will be heading through the right door. Right?" she asked hopefully.

"Actually no," the voice said solemnly.

Hermione's mouth dropped. Okay, she hadn't been the most virtuous person in the world, but she didn't think that she deserved...Hell. She glanced to her left, and fear rose to her throat, choking off her breath. The door was black. Not just painted black, but a black that was the complete absence of light. Frost lined the edges of the door, the kind of frost that if touched would take skin with it. She had always imagined that Hell would be a place of fire and pain. The horrible door, which sent chills of complete terror up her spine, suggested otherwise.

"But you said that my soul was not destined for Hell! Please, is there anything that I can do?" Hermione cried.

"Please calm yourself, child. You will not be going to Hell. In fact, you will have a choice that no mere mortal has ever received. There was a mistake made with the timing of your death. You were not supposed to die in the Department of Mysteries."

"Mistake! How does that actually happen?" Hermione's voice had risen. She was on a roller coaster of emotion, up and down from terror to confusion and anger.

"There are many jobs in Heaven, many departments if you will. Some souls are never sent to Earth, and instead work to help Heaven run smoothly. One such soul was placed in a job that she was not prepared for. She is what we call a Moirai. Moirai's are the keepers of Fate and they maintain threads of life. You life thread was severed accidentally. The curse that killed you was meant to miss you entirely, harmlessly hitting the wall behind you. When your thread was cut, Fate was redetermined. I'm very sorry."

"Sorry? That is all you have to say to me? I'm dead! I knew that it was a possibility, with the life that I chose to lead. I accepted the risk, but to know it was a mistake...that someone was asleep on the job...Well what happens now?" Hermione was steeped in sadness and disbelief, but what could she do? Dead was dead.

The voice sighed. "I think that you will be happy to know that Aisa, the Moirai that cut your thread, will be taken through a strict retraining," at Hermione's scoff, the voice paused, before continuing. "Because of the _unique _circumstances regarding your death, we are prepared to offer you a choice. You may go to Heaven, and reap your deserved rewards or you can go back to Earth."

Hermione sighed in happiness, relief washing over her. "I can go back? Thank you! I have so much left unfinished. Harry and Ron, well they are going to be lost without my help. And my parents! I know my Mum and Dad will be so happy that I'm not dead," she said ending with a huge grin.

Her grin slowly faded as the voice spoke again. "I regret to inform you that your body has been buried, laid to rest in Rolling Green Cemetery."

"Buried? But...how do you intend to send me back without a body?" Hermione thought of her parents and friends, the grief that they must have suffered. Another thought came to her. "Exactly how long have I been dead?"

"Its has been several months since your death, child. We used the time to find an acceptable replacement for your body. We looked diligently for a body to replace your own. We wanted to find a replacement that was as near to your true self as we could, with as similar a background as could be managed. There were certain conditions that had to be met, before both the body and your soul were ready. The body had to die of natural causes. We would not want a repeat of this situation happening again and since your new body's life thread will be cut soon, we can place your soul there."

"_Another _body?" Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about the prospect. It was like the thought of wearing someone else's knickers. Uncomfortable and disgusting, but she would do anything to get back to where she belonged. "I will take it," she said determinedly.

"There are conditions of course. Your..._essence_ will be the same but you _will not_ be Hermione Granger any longer. You will be a different person, though you will retain your own thoughts and memories. You will also have access to her memories as well, though they will simply be there for frame of reference and ease of transition. We want this to go as smoothly as possible. While we do encourage you to make the best of this new life, you cannot tell anyone who you were. If you do, the deal will be nullified," the voice said quietly.

"Nullified? What does that mean? And why?" she asked.

"The deal will be void. You would be brought back here, your soul placed within this waiting place for a period of no less than one hundred Earth years. You will have no choice in the matter. The why of it is to simply maintain protocol. We cannot have it be known that such instances can happen. It would cause untold chaos. People would no longer respect or attempt to earn their proper place in the afterlife if they thought that they could just have a do-over."

Hermione wanted to scream in frustration. It wasn't fair! It wasn't her fault that life had been cut short, and now that she had a second chance, she couldn't even tell her loved ones. It was like a punishment, not a gift!

She was silent for a moment, thinking, before she sobered. What would the people from her former life think anyway? The wizarding world was full of unexplainable things, but this would be a bit much. They would think her a charlatan, or that was playing a cruel trick, mocking their pain, at best. They could – and probably would - think that she was insane. It would be a perfectly reasonable assumption. Hermione imagined herself in a straight-jacket, hair standing around her head, sitting in the psych ward at St. Mungo's. Everyone would think she was as crazy as Gilderoy Lockhart if she went around spouting that she was a dead girl. Especially while in the body of a girl who was alive and well.

"I don't care. I still want the chance." she finally said. She wanted to live. She would always be Hermione Granger inside no matter what body she wore. Besides, he/she hadn't said that she couldn't leave hints, simply saying that she couldn't _tell_. He/she hadn't said that she would be punished if someone figured it out for themselves. If she left clues...well perhaps they would guess.

"We were able to find a similar body, the same age even, and she was also a witch. Now if you are sure..."

"I am absolutely sure," Hermione said, interrupting.

"Done," the voice said. A sound as harsh and abrupt as a clap of lightning hit her ears.

A cyclone of wind surrounded Hermione, lifting her from the chair. "But who am I going to...?" the roar of the wind took the rest of her voice, and the space seemed to melt around her.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Once again Hermione woke to a strange place.

A beeping sound echoed softly beside her, and she glanced to her left and watched as a medical monitor beside her bed recorded her pulse.

She was in hospital then.

The too chemical scent of cleansers and lemon floor wax filled her nose, burning, but Hermione glorified in the sensation. She was alive! She could feel the slightly scratchy sheet against her skin, the nubby blanket under her finger tips.

The room was dim, but she could make out mauve painted walls and a generic floral print on the wall. This wasn't a temporary room, it seemed more...permanent. There was a single vase of flowers on a table directly across from the bed. Pink peonies. Almost the same shade as the walls.

The door opened and a young Mediwitch entered the room, crossing the space to open the curtains, and letting in bright sunlight.

Hermione coughed delicately to garner attention and watched as the witch jumped.

"Oh! You are awake!" the witch said, eyes wide with awe. She walked back to the doorway quickly, touching her wand against a small panel mounted on the wall.

Within minutes the room was filled with Healers and more Mediwitches.

Over the next hour they checked her vitals, and conducted test they deemed appropriate. The general consensus was amazement at her consciousness.

Hermione was beyond tired of being poked and prodded when finally an older Healer entered the room. He sat down in a chair next to the bed, his bushy brows drawn together. He rubbed one hand against his temple and winced a bit, obviously suffering from a headache."You have been comatose for several months," he began bluntly, "You were medically brain dead. We have no explanation as to why you regained consciousness so suddenly. You are a very lucky young woman, Miss Davis."

"Davis?" Hermione finally said, surprised at the low, husky voice that came from her throat. The voice was very different from what hers had been.

The Healer looked puzzled for a moment, before standing. He pulled a small light from his white coat, shining it into her eyes. "Can you tell me what your name is?"

"Of course I can," Hermione said as realization hit her. The information was there. She was Tracey Taryn Davis, and she was a Slytherin.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, simply staring at her reflection. She had been there for several minutes, silently taking in what she saw.

There were vague similarities. They both had dark hair, though this girls hair was a deep auburn color. It wasn't as ginger as say, Ginny's hair, but there were definite red tones in the wavy locks. It was also very thick and long, ending at the small of her back. Much longer than Hermione had ever allowed her own hair to grow. Hermione ran a hand through the heavy mass, blinking back tears when her hand didn't encounter curly snarls. She hadn't thought she would ever bemoan the reality of long silky smooth hair, but she wanted _her_ hair back.

They were both Caucasian, though Tracey had a fairer complexion. More the traditional English rose, with softly blushing cheeks and clear pale ivory skin, rather than the peaches and cream hue that Hermione had once possessed. Hermione doubted that Tracey tanned well.

The features were completely different, of course. Tracey had delicate perfectly sculpted brows over brilliant blue eyes, surrounded by sooty lashes. Lashes like Hermione had always wanted. She had a small straight nose, and when she opened her mouth she noticed even white teeth. Her mouth was rather lush, a natural rose color. Tracey was pretty. Not in an in your face beauty like Fleur Delacour; more a quiet, refined beauty. She glanced down at the drab hospital gown, running a hand down her body.

Hermione untied the gown, feeling slightly guilty. She pushed down the guilt. If this is my body, I had better get used to it, she thought to herself.

She let the ugly hospital gown fall to the floor, and she forced her eyes back to the large mirror.

Though they were both petite, though she judged that Tracey was a few inches taller than the five four that she had been. Other than that their body types were as unalike as can be. Hermione had had slender almost boyish limbs. Tracey was curvy, and surprisingly leggy despite her shorter stature.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Do you need help getting in the shower or adjusting the taps?" a mediwitch called from beyond the door, concern coloring her voice. Hermione had been in the loo for several minutes in complete silence and the mediwitch had begun to worry.

"No," Hermione called back. Sighing, she pulled back the plastic shower curtain. She started the water, stepping under the warm spray. Now, in the privacy of the quiet stall, she let her emotions take over. The roar of the water completely masked the sound of her sobs.

* * *

0o0

* * *

After her shower, Hermione sat quietly, forcing herself to eat a bland hospital meal. She pushed around slightly mushy peas, thinking. She didn't have a lot of time to come up with a plan. She figured that she would approach this situation like she approached any others: by studying as much as she could and applying the knowledge that she learned.

Thankfully, after she had displayed confusion over her name and details about her life, the Healers had conveniently offered up amnesia as an explanation. The excuse was as good as any and she latched upon it, figuring it would explain any lapses or mistakes that she would make while she adjusted. It also fitted in with the accident that Tracey had apparently had while riding horseback. The girl had fallen when her horse had gotten spooked, striking her head against a large rock. It had been several hours before she was found, and quickly brought to the hospital.

The Healers had been able to repair and reconstruct her skull, but the brain had been another matter. While magical medicine was becoming more and more advanced every year, some aspects of the brain were just as mysterious to wizard doctors as it was to Muggle ones. NeuroHealer experts had been brought in, but even they hadn't been able to explain why Tracey hadn't regained consciousness. Her body was as healthy as they could manage. Of course, the Healers had no idea that Tracey's body had been on "ice" while the "powers that be" fixed their mistake. Eventually Tracey was moved to the long term care wing, and they had simply monitored her vital signs, and cared for her physical body in every way that they could, hoping that she would wake. Tracey had been comatose for three months. Her accident must have happened very soon after the end of the school year.

Hermione found that if she thought on certain details of Tracey's life that the information would come to her, almost like facts that she had studied.

Tracey was a single child, born to Nigel and Claudia Davis. Claudia, her mother, had passed away from complications after childbirth. She lived in a large mock chalet bungalow in Dorset, very near the sea. Closing her eyes, she could even vividly recall the warm stone and rich wood in the home.

"You are one lucky girl Tracey. You don't mind if I call you Tracey do you?," a mediwitch said, her plump cheeks dimpling in a smile. She was a robust girl, called Sarah, with rosy cheeks and thick blonde hair pinned neatly under her white cap. She looked very much like a stereotypical Dutch milkmaid.

Hermione was tired of being called lucky. Every time someone mentioned her "recovery" the word lucky soon followed. She didn't feel very lucky. She was in an entirely different body from the one she had been born to, and it alarmed her that she was becoming increasingly comfortable in said body.

She was cut off from everyone who loved her, and had still not came up with a viable solution to the problem. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she would be able to see her friends soon, even if from a careful distance. She knew that it would be the height of idiocy to approach Harry and Ron in friendship right away. They would be immediately suspicious of such an overture from a Slytherin, especially one that had never deigned to speak to them before.

"Actually, call me Taryn," Hermione said quietly. As much as she wanted to be called by her own name, she couldn't be Hermione anymore, but she would be damned if she was going to be called Tracey. "When do I get to go home?" she asked the witch.

"Well, they didn't find anything peculiar with your tests or blood-work. Unless the doctor says differently I assume that you will be leaving as soon as your family can come to collect you," Sarah said cheerfully.

Hermione thought of her mother and father and felt grief almost choked her. What were Daniel and Claire Granger doing at that very moment? With effort, she pushed down the thought, steeling herself against the emotion. She had to get it together. It wouldn't do to go around looking like someone had died. It would look odd if she didn't put on a happier attitude. She would try to visit her parents later if at all possible, though covertly of course.

"Well, that certainly sounds good. I can't wait to be back in my own bed," Hermione smiled brightly, pushing cheer into her voice.

"Ah, that sounds more like a girl happy to be alive and well!" Sarah said smiling, as she wheeled out the empty tray.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Draco Malfoy raised the hood of his black sweatshirt over his head to cover the paleness of his hair. The striking platinum hair would be a dead giveaway, pinpointing his exact position as he crossed the lawn of Malfoy Manor, and he didn't want his progress tracked. He shifted the strap of the duffel on his shoulder, checking the zipper, before making his way to the wrought iron entrance to the grounds.

Just outside the gate he Apparated, appearing in a dark alley a block or so from his destination.

He walked quickly past abandoned warehouses and silent factories, soon reaching another alley behind a familiar nondescript building. He glanced around, alert to any dangers, wand within reach should he need it. Turning the corner, he paused in front of a peeling red door, rapping exactly five times on the metallic surface.

The door was wrenched open. A huge man, with a ready scowl on his face glowered at him from the open door. "Who the fuck is..."

Draco pushed back his hood, running a hand through his silky hair and grinned cockily.

The scowl left the man's face, and he clapped Draco on the back. "Haven't seen you around here lately, eh? Thought you might not be coming back Ryu," he said, moving aside for Draco to pass.

Draco smirked. "Nah, you'd miss my pretty face too much." It had been several months since he had last been here, and his body jumped in nervous tension.

The light inside was slightly dim, yet it illuminated the polished concrete floors and dark red brick walls. Draco walked confidently down the familiar hallway, before pushing his way into a large locker room. He could hear the roar of the crowd, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring what was yet to come. Moving toward the rear of the room he stopped before his locker, pulling out a key to unlock the plain metal door.

He pulled the hoodie over his head revealing a black tee-shirt that emphasized the lean, hard muscles that his wizard robes hid. Sitting down on the smooth wooden bench bolted to the floor in front of the bank of lockers, he pulled off his shoes, before standing again to unbutton and push down his dark wash jeans. Under the jeans was a pair of tight shorts that his mother would be horrified to see him wearing.

"He gonna be here tonight, Jeff?" Draco asked when he heard the man's familiar heavy footfall entering the room behind him. He took a pair of black fingerless protective gloves from his locker, and pulled them on his pale hands.

"You're shitting me, eh? Course he will be here. Him and everyone else you can think of. You're lucky you remembered to come in through the back. The place is packed. You've been gone awhile and people have been waiting to see this match. Damek has been going around telling people how he is going to kick your ass," Jeff said, leaning his large frame on the wall behind him.

"Good," was all Draco said, rolling his neck to loosen the muscles.

"Good? The guy has been pissing on your name and that's all you have to say? Good?" Jeff asked, chuckling a bit to himself. Ryu was one strange kid. He'd known him for about three years, and he had never seen someone with so much raw talent. The kid took to mixed martial arts like a fish to water, only saying that he had had lots of fencing lessons as a child. As if that was anything like MMA. Jeff had took a chance on the kid when he had shown up out of the blue a few years ago, his grey eyes steely with anger and resentment. The eyes had been chilly, especially set into the delicate features of a child. He'd been all of thirteen years old, but he had had the cash. Jeff, being a man that jumped on an opportunity, took the money asking no questions save for the kid's name. He knew that Ryu was not the kids name. The kid looked as much like a Ryu, as he did a Brittany. He literally had to bite his tongue to keep from questioning, but he had managed, and over time he had found a sort of rough friendship with the kid.

It had proved to be a smart decision, and Jeff and Ryu had made a shitload of money together. Ryu had only lost three matches in as many years, and his reputation and spread way beyond the small gym. Everyone knew about Ryu. The man who fought in grace and silence and never bore the marks of said battles. That in and of itself added to the mystique. In an industry of crooked noses and cauliflower ears, Ryu had remained handsome and pristine and healed extremely quickly. It was creepy at best, and fucking terrifying at worse. Some of the more superstitious fighters whispered about pacts with devils, and even though Jeff pushed away the thought, he silently wondered.

Jeff's brow rose as he noticed something. "When did you get inked kid?" he asked, nodding his head toward the tattoo on Draco's left inner forearm. It looked like a skull with a snake coming from its mouth.

Draco froze. Dammit, he had forgotten to glamour the mark. Shit, this was exactly what I didn't want, he thought. He only wanted to forget about the fact that he now wore the Dark Mark, to forget what had been asked of him, even chancing leaving Malfoy Manor so close to time to return to Hogwarts. "Just something I got while pissed," he finally said, forcing out a false chuckle.

Jeff only shook his head. He had never seen Ryu pissed in the years that he had known him. The kid always refused when the rest of the guys went out for a drink, but as a man that kept his own council, he reasoned that Ryu had his own reasons for keeping the meaning of his tattoo private. Jeff respected that. After all, this place wasn't exactly a confessional, and many of its patrons had secrets and kept even more.

"I'm going to go warm up," Draco said heading toward a room just off from the locker room. The room was small, and the floor was graced with thick mats to cushion bodies from hard falls. From this room the roar of the crowd was louder and he walked over to the Muggle stereo system, turning on a CD to drown out the sound. A guitar heavy song filled the room.

Draco smirked to himself as he imagined the look on his friends faces if they knew where he was now. They would probably shit their pants, he thought. Both at the mere thought of him being in a Muggle establishment, let alone listening to Muggle music. They would probably have a heart attack if they knew why he was there.

To the world Draco Malfoy was known as a pompous braggart at best, and a pretentious asshole at worst. It was a part that he had learned to play from birth. In the world of underground mixed martial arts, he was known simply as Ryu Kovalic, a sixteen year old kid who could reduce a grown man to a bloody pulp one night, and seduce his girlfriend the next.

Draco needed to fight. It was the only time he felt a measure of control over his life. When he was facing an opponent in the ring/cage/wherever, it was like his world was right. He determined what happened. If he was on his game then he controlled the outcome. There wasn't a bunch of political shit to mar the simple facts. It was one man against another. Competition in its purest form.

He walked over to the wall, removing a pair of rattan sticks. Moving back to the practice mat, he took a basic stance, right leg slightly forward. He began to shadowbox, his sticks moving in deadly rapid strikes, his imaginary opponent receiving punishing strikes to the head and down on the ribs. On and one he went, his feet moving in practiced steps as he demolished his opponent.

He finished his warmup, bouncing on his heels, ready for the match. It was time to live in the moment. Damek didn't stand a fucking chance.

* * *

**FAIR WARNING(S): **

* * *

**I'm NOT trying to be rude or condescend to anyone by saying any of this. I've found that I can't tiptoe around issues and that blunt speaking is needed to avoid confusion. Here are some answers to commonly asked question or issues: **

* * *

**1.** The Complexities of Birthright as a whole is an Angsty/Romantic AU story mixed with Canon. It is M rated and often leans more toward MA or NC-17. The rating is for language, sexual scenes, and violence.

The Draco and Hermione found here are slightly OOC, though I do my best to keep them in character while still telling the story I want to tell. They aren't purely J.K. Rowling's characters. If you want character purity reread the novels. I'll be referring to Hermione as Taryn, mostly because it's confusing to go back and forth. She is still mostly the same person, but for all intents and purposes thinks of herself as Taryn. When I mention Tracey I am referring to the actual Tracey Davis. Tracey is a canon character, but her characterization is vague enough that I can pretty much make her my own.

**1a.**I don't have a posting schedule, mostly because I know that I wouldn't be able to follow it. I write when I feel like it. I get horrible writer's block. Sometimes it may be weeks before an update, other times only a few days. I'm not going to be a review whore and hound people for feedback, but it honestly does make me want to work and write faster. Each follow, subscribe, or favorite is nice, but ultimately it is your feedback as a reader that makes me want to share this story.

**EDIT: This story was originally meant to be two parts separated into two different stories. I decided to merge them together mostly for ease of reading. Also, I really don't want to be accused once more of "trying to rope in readers"(yes, I still feel a bit pissy about this accusation, lol) by listing this as complete when the story arc is anything but finished. **

* * *

**2.** This story contains Slash or M/M, which refers to a male/male relationship for those who don't recognize the term. The main characters are heterosexual, but a few side characters aren't. I'll generally let everyone know when a chapter will contain Slash elements. I won't respond to flames about this issue, and I don't tolerate bigotry. If slash isn't your cup of tea then feel free to skip those parts if you like.

* * *

**3.** I don't have a beta. I'm not going to be overly concerned with the grammar/typo aspects of this story. I try my best to catch errors but I'm not perfect, so you should expect to see a few. This is written for fun and is a hobby for me, not something I'm being paid for obviously. It is not intended to be comparable to published works. It is an amateur effort and as such is not up to current industry standards.

* * *

**4.** I **DO NOT **respond to flames, so save yourself the effort of writing them.

I also try my best to answer all questions/concerns/reviews as long as they are respectful and genuine.

* * *

** I NEVER REMOVE REVIEWS.**

If you have something to say, even if it is a criticism, post it. If its rudely stated I won't answer it, but I won't delete it. It's your honest opinion and you have the right to say it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Draco eased gingerly into his bed, an ice pack against his ribs. He could have used a cooling charm on the area, but he found that he liked the old ways better. The fight had been a brutal, unarmed brawl that had left Draco with bruised ribs, and another win under his belt.

"Will you let me call for the Mistress, sir?" said the small house elf standing by his bedside as she twisted her hands in anxiety. Her big green eyes matching the tea towel she wore.

"Do I ever let you call Mother, Jujube?" Draco asked sarcastically, but then gentled his tone at the elf's flinch. "Please, just get me some feverfew tea. It will help," he said watching as her face lit up.

"Right away sir!" She popped from the room.

Draco used her absence to retrieve a bottle of Tylenol from his duffel, grimacing at the stab of pain the move gave him. He downed two of the pills dry. He preferred a good pain potion, but his mother monitored the stores, and he really didn't want to explain why he needed it. He could just see himself explaining, "Well, Mum, I need the rest of the pain potion because I took a hard side kick in the ribs. Where you say? Oh, in the underground fighting circuit I've been involved in for, I dunno, about three years. Don't worry though, Damek got his after that knee bar I gave him. They pretty much dragged the guy off of the mats. Aren't you proud?"

Narcissa would faint in horror at the statement. She still thought of him as her little boy and since Draco didn't have brothers or sisters to take away at least some of her attention, he had to be very covert about his activities. She actually believed the stories he spun about playing rugby with Crabble and Goyle, or at least she never questioned his excuses for the many bruises and busted lips he often sported during breaks from school.

Lucius, if he were ever home, wouldn't believe any of lies. Fortunately, Lucius worked away from home and was unable to monitor Draco's outings. Now that he was in Azkaban, well, it was easier than ever to escape the manor. Not that Draco wanted his father in prison. He loved his father but he resented the decisions that the man had made. Decisions that forced his own hand, even requiring him to take the Dark Mark.

Draco had taken the Dark Mark for one reason, and one reason only. To protect his mother. Lucius was so enamored with the thought of the glory that he would receive after Voldemort was in power, that he had put is family in danger time and time again. Draco didn't understand Lucius' blind devotion to Voldemort. Fear of the man – oh yes, he understood that – but belief in his vision? Well that was harder to come by. He, himself, would stab Voldemort in the back in a second, but his fear chained him.

"I has the tea, sir!" Jujube said, popping back into the room. She handed Draco a steaming mug, beaming at completing a task.

Draco sipped the hot, amber liquid, making a face at the bitterness that even the honey couldn't hide.

…

Draco woke abruptly when his mother entered his room. He had fallen asleep, and he wiped a bit a very undignified drool from the corner of his mouth, grimacing.

He blinked blearily at her. Rubbing his eyes he sat up, trying his best not to show the pain that ripped through his torso.

"You haven't forgotten have you?" Narcissa asked crisply. She was dressed in royal blue robes, her blonde hair drawn into a low chignon.

"Of course I haven't," Draco said, easing from the bed. He frowned looking down at his clothes. The black trousers and gray shirt were crinkled from his nap. He waved his wand over the clothes, returning them to their former pressed perfection.

"Good. We don't have a lot of time to spend in Madame Malkin's, so we had best get a move on," Narcissa said.

* * *

Draco wanted to be anywhere else, preferably in bed sleeping off the affects of the Tylenol and feverfew tea.

"Mother, you don't need to be here. I'm capable of doing my shopping _alone_," Draco said in irritation, pulling a set of dark blue dress robes up his arms, glancing in the mirror to admire the fit.

"We can't all go wandering about alone," Madame Malkin said. "If it makes your mother feel better to be here, why not allow it?"

He frowned at the woman. He wanted to tell her to mind her business, and opened his mouth to say just that when the bell over the door of the tiny shop rang. Draco turned from the mirror to see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley entering the shop.

He was slightly shocked at the appearance of both of the boys. Both were obviously thinner, but Ron looked positively cadaverous. His eyes had dark bags beneath them, and his usual carroty red hair looked limp. It seemed that the death of Hermione Granger had hit them harshly.

The Prophet had been splashed with the story for months, everyone still disbelieving over the fact that one part of the "Golden Trio" was dead. People came out of the woodwork, telling their own Hermione stories. He doubted that half of the people that had claimed to know the witch actually had, let alone had personal stories to impart. He himself had been thrown at the news. He told himself that it was just one less mudblood to deal with, but the news had shaken him, bringing to the forefront the reality of what the Voldemort situation was doing to their society.

"What the fuck are you looking at Malfoy?" Ron said, noticing Draco's gaze.

Draco sneered, all of the slight sympathy that he'd had for the bloke draining in the face of the hostile tone.. "Nothing at all? Where's the Mudblood? Ah yes, that's right...how tragic...just tragic," Draco said, knowing exactly what to say to cut the deepest.

Harry and Ron whipped out their wands, pointing them directly at Draco.

"Take it back you fucking asshole!" Ron screamed, spittle flinging from his mouth.

"Put those wands away this instant! I don't need this sort of trouble in my shop," said Madame Malkin shrieked, rushing around a clothes rack.

"Lower your wands," Narcissa said coldly, her eyes narrowed on Harry and Ron. "If you ever again raise your wand against my son, I will make sure its the last thing you do," she said evenly.

"Need your Mum to save you, Malfoy?" Harry said to Draco, taking a step forward. "Gonna send some Death Eaters after me?"

"Wands down, I say," said Madam Malkin, her eyes wide, and hand clutching her collar as she glanced anxiously between the two groups.

"Feeling a bit brave under Dumbledore's protection, eh?," said Narcissa venomously.

"He isn't here now," said Harry, lowly. "Why don't you try it? Maybe then can find you a cell next to your shitface husband in Azkaban? Should I call him Voldemort's bitch? Or is that your title?"

Narcissa flinched, taking an involuntary step back from the boy.

Rage ripped through Draco, and he drew his wand, ignoring the wash of pain that went through him at the movement. He pointed the wand directly at Harry. " Never speak to my mother like that again, Potter!"

"Its okay Draco," Narcissa said resting a trembling hand on Draco's shoulder.

Draco managed to reign in his anger, before ripping the robes over his head. "I don't want these any longer Mother. Let's just leave."

"Of course. I think Twillfits and Tatting's would be a better choice," Narcissa said, and with one last contemptuous look at the teenage boys, they left the shop.

Draco glanced at his mother in concern, her proud shoulders had a slight stoop. Narcissa was a strong woman, but the months without Lucius had taken their toll. Her mouth was pinched with tension.

Draco stopped her with one hand on her arm. "Why don't we head over for tea after we go to Twillfits and Tatting's, Mother?"

Narcissa's face smoothed, and she smiled at her son. "That would be nice. I can't remember the last time that just you and I had an outing."

* * *

Narcissa ran into a few of her friends inside of the other robe shop, and Draco used the distraction to slip away, knowing that she would be occupied for awhile.

She was unaware of exactly what the Dark Lord had asked of him, and he wanted to keep it that way. Narcissa had been running on sheer nerve since Lucius had been taken to Azkaban and Draco didn't want to add to the strain.

He wasn't happy in the least to have the task given to him, but after Lucius' failure in the Department of Mysteries, Draco knew that he would have to do as he was asked.

He remembered the night he received the Dark Mark vividly.

"_The Dark Lord will see you now," Bellatrix said solemnly, entering the room quietly. _

_Draco and his mother sat in their informal drawing room. The room was a richly decorated, painted in a soft pink. Big cabbage roses decorated the fabric of the spindly chairs arranged in a semi-circle before the fireplace. Draco hated the room, he found it far too feminine, but it was the place where his mother was most comfortable and he did not want to leave her side. They had just watched his father being forcibly taken to Azkaban. Lucius had gone with a stoic face, more afraid of the Dark Lord than the Dementors within the prison. He had kissed his wife on the cheek, and turning to Draco said, "Take care of your Mother," before letting the Aurors pull him into a side-long Apparation. _

"_He...He is here?" Narcissa said, her face wet with tears. _

"_Of course, dear sister. You didn't think that he would allow the failure in the Department of Mysteries to go unaddressed?" Bellatrix said lazily, twirling a curl around her finger. _

"_Well, I didn't think that it would be this soon," Narcissa said standing, smoothing the wrinkles in her black skirt. "I'm ready to see him now. Draco, please go to your room and do not come out until I send for you."_

_Draco stood firm. "No, Mother. Father asked me to look after you, and I will."_

_Bellatrix smiled. "Aw, my nephew is growing into a man. Good. You will have need of that courage soon enough." Turning to Narcissa she said, "Sister, it is _Draco _that the Dark Lord would like to speak with. You will remain here."_

"_But...Bellatrix, he is just a child! I cannot allow my child to go in front of..."_

"_Surely you do not believe that the Dark Lord means Draco any harm?" Bellatrix said, warning clear in her voice. _

_Narcissa flinched. "No, of course not," she said, cowed. _

"_It will be fine Mother, please do not let this concern you. I am not a child, and you cannot send me to the nursery any longer," Draco said gently, patting his mother's arm. Turning to Bellatrix he said, "I am ready Aunt."_

_Bellatrix led him down the hallway to the formal dining room. The room was dim, curtains drawn tight. Light from the huge fireplace illuminated the room in all places but the shadowed corners. The large dining table that usually dominated the room was missing. In its place was a raised platform made of a black marble. Upon the platform was a large throne-like chair which sat behind a heavy, dark polished desk. _

_Draco noticed the hands first. Those thin inhuman hands, steepled together, elbows on the table. Voldemort leaned forward, the flickering firelight revealing his hideous snake-like features, and disturbing red eyes. _

"_Sssit down," Voldemort said, his hissing voice sounding merely bored. With a wave of his wand, a dull wooden chair appeared. _

_Draco sat in the chair, his eyes carefully lowered to the floor. _

"_Your face is bruisssed boy. Why?"_

_Draco swallowed before answering. "I belong to a boxing club, sir." That much was true, he did belong to a boxing club, both a legitimate wizard one and an underground muggle counterpart. The legit one was just not where he had gotten his bruised cheekbone. No, that had come from a deadly accurate spinning hook kick from his sparring partner while he had been distracted. _

"_Pugilism isss a dirty Muggle sssport. Why ssspend your time on nonsssense? A real man dominatesss with wizardry. Are you a real man Draco Malfoy?" Voldemort asked. He raised his hand, and Draco noticed the light bouncing off of a thick silvery chain in his grasp. Voldemort began to slowly reel in the chain, and Draco heard footsteps coming from the back of the room. _

_What was revealed made him swallow hard against the sour bile that rose to his throat. _

_The chain was made of thick, heavy links and was connected to a matching metal collar. The collar was around the neck of a slender girl. The girl was naked and filthy, her blonde hair dull and limp. She was covered in bruises, the skin around her collar purple and black with crusted over scars. Her face was puffy and swollen. Her eyes were vacant. _

_Draco was so horrified at the sight that it took him a moment to recognize the her. Her name was Ingrid Merman, and she was a Slytherin that had few years ahead of himself. Her father, Oliver Merman, had fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord six months ago. He had been subjected to the Cruciatus curse until he went mad, and apparently the Dark Lord had decided that the punishment was not enough. It seemed the Ingrid would bear the rest of the Dark Lord's fury._

"_I am competent with my wand, sir," was all Draco said in reply to the Dark Lord's question. It had taken much to push past his revulsion, but he would not allow his emotions to rule him. _

_Voldemort chuckled at the evasion. "I have decided not to punish the Malfoy family for your father'sss failure. Instead, I believe that I will give you a specific task. Will you agree to help your Lord?"_

_Draco knew that he really didn't have a choice. "Of course, my Lord. Whatever you ask, I will do my utmost to complete."_

"_Come to me, Draco," Voldemort said. _

_Draco stood, making his way to the desk. Just before he reached Voldemort, he sank to his knees, his head bowed, knowing the proper etiquette._

"_Roll up your sleeve for me," Voldemort said, pushing from the desk, moving to stand at the edge of the platform. _

_Draco's head rose in shock at the request, his Aunt's gasp from behind him barely registered. _

"_Oh, Lord, you do my family much honor!" Bellatrix called out happily. _

_Draco ignored the statement, unbuttoning his cuff and rolling the material back from his left forearm. Voldemort grasped the limb, his hand firmly around the wrist. The chill of his skin was unnerving and Draco wanted to rip his arm away. Voldemort pressed his wand against Draco's skin. The Dark Mark began to appear, burning like acid splashed against his skin. Draco bore the pain quietly. _

"_You have more courage than your father, boy," Voldemort said pleased. "You may thank me for the honor bestowed upon you."_

_Draco leaned down to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes, fighting against the urge to vomit. _

"_Return to your seat. You have yet to learn your task," Voldemort said, returning behind the desk to sit once again in the high backed chair. _

_Draco quietly found his seat, and waited in a studied pretense at patience for the Dark Lord to begin. _

"_I want you to kill Albus Dumbledore."_

_Draco's head snapped back to Voldemort, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Kill Dumbledore?"_

"_I believe that I spoke clearly," Voldemort said. "Ah Nagini, did you enjoy your supper?" he said, caressing the head of the large snake as her long triangular head came to rest on the arm of the chair._

_Draco shivered. He hadn't even heard the creature enter the room. "Forgive me Lord, but how do you expect me to kill Dumbledore. He is one of the strongest wizards alive...Though not as strong as yourself," he hastily added, noting the look of ire upon Voldemort's face. _

"_Do you question me, child?"_

"_No, Lord, I merely..." Draco sputtered, before recovering his composure. "I thank you, sir for the chance to regain my family's dignity," he said quietly. _

_Voldemort smiled, the expression repulsive on his alien countenance. "The how of it matters not. I just want Dumbledore dead as soon as possible, and it pleases me that you be the one to do the job. Come here pet," Voldemort said, turning to speak to the the naked girl kneeling on the floor._

_Ingrid rose and walked forward without hesitation. _

_Draco watched in disgust as Voldemort 's hand cupped her right breast, weighing the flesh before pinching the nipple harshly, smiling at her gasp of pain._

_"Draco, if you fail in this task...I could always use another pet. This one is beginning to bore me. She doesn't have an ounce of spirit left. You know...I have always found your mother quite beautiful. You are dismissed," Voldemort said with a wave of his thin hand, his eyes never straying from the now screaming girl. _

_Draco stood abruptly, almost upending his chair. He exited the room quickly, heading back to his mother. _

_..._

He snapped from his reverie. He hadn't been gone long, but and if he knew his mother, she would be going crazy once she noted his absence. She had began to watch him like a hawk since he had received his assignment. Even in the face of her anger – and eventual tears – Draco had refused to give her any details, conscious of the unspoken threat Voldemort had issued against her. After his refusals she had grown quiet, but he knew that it bothered her. He would have to make this unavoidable errand quick.

He ducked down the dark cobbled street, looking around him, his keen eyes noting every detail. It wasn't wise to be off of your guard whilst in Knockturn Alley.

A heavy eyed witch sidled up to him, boldly running a hand down his chest, pushing a hank of dark hair from her face. "I can take that frown from your face, honey," she said in a smoke roughened voice.

Draco pushed back from her. "Not today," he said simply. He had never taken a prostitute before, and he wouldn't start today.

"Your loss," she said, lip curled. She walked over to what she thought were greener pastures, eventually ducking into a dark alcove with an eager wizard.

Draco strode purposefully down down the street, his fierce scowl warning off anyone else. He spied his destination.

Borgin and Burkes was a hovel. With its dusty shelves and cobweb ridden ceiling, it managed to give off a very sinister air. Draco disliked the place immensely, but had deemed the visit as vital.

Mr. Borgin was a stooped man, with an oily face riddled with pockmarks. His equally oily hair was pushed back from his tall forehead. He had empty blue eyes that only filled with emotion when he was accepting money.

Draco didn't waste any time on pleasantries. "Do you have it?"

Borgin sneered. "What would a snot nose child like you be needing with such an item? I must confess that I found it very _intriguing _when you owled me about The Opal Necklace. I think that it would be a piece of information that would be very valuable, though I _could_ be persuaded to keep my silence... I'd take money, or some other beneficial arrangement," his eyes slid down Draco's form.

Draco reached over the scarred wooden counter and grabbed the man by the collar. In one smooth move Borgin's face was slammed against the hard surface, Draco's wand jammed into the skin of his throat.

"Don't fuck with me Borgin. I don't have time for your shit, you mean less to me than a speck of lint on my robes. Now, do you have the fucking necklace or not?" Draco snarled.

"Let's not get hasty, my boy. Of course I have it," Borgin said, his voice half muffled, his breath fogging the spotty glass that topped the counter.

Draco reluctantly let the man loose, watching as Borgin straightened his clothing in affront. "You don't need to be so violent," Borgin said in a whine playing the victim, seemingly forgetting that he had just tried to blackmail him into money or sex.

Draco pushed up his robe from his forearm, exposing the Dark Mark. " If it was up to me, I'd just end you you piece of shit, but I am not working on my own time. Now you can deal with me, or you can cause me to report that you have caused me to waste time..."

Borgin felt the trickle of warm urine run down his trouser leg as pure terror raced through him. "No, sir. Please wait here, I will be back momentarily with the requested item," he said, his voice shaky, but with much more deference than before.

He returned swiftly, a dark maroon velvet box clasped in his hands. "Here it is. I trust that I not need to tell you to handle it with care."

Draco opened the box and stared down at the antique necklace. The mostly blue stones glimmered with a plethora of rainbow shimmers, set into ornate silvery settings.

"Every thing seems to be in order, however if it is not..." Draco began.

"It will be sir. I guarantee it," Borgin said hastily.

Draco opened his robe, placing the box in an inside pocket. He tossed a heavy bag of coins on the counter. "Its all there. If you need to count it..."

" That will not be necessary sir. I trust that it will all be there," Borgin said, his voice had taken on a weary tone.

"Excellent. Good day to you sir," Draco said sarcastically, heading toward the door.

He didn't see Borgin slump into a chair as soon as the door swung back close.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

With two audible pops, two women, one fair and one dark appeared by a dirty, sluggish river.

"Cissy, listen to me. This is not a good idea," Bellatrix said, tugging on Narcissa's arm in vain.

Wrenching her arm away, Narcissa turned to her sister. "Then go back Bella! It's my decision, and I have made it."

The two sisters strode briskly from the river bank, unmindful of the mud that soon caked their boots. Reaching the railing that separated the river from a cobbled street, they paused, ever mindful of their surroundings.

"What is this dirty little town called? Are you sure _this_ is the place?" Bellatrix asked with a sniff.

"Cokesworth. You would do well to remember that I did not ask you to follow me. You invited yourself," Narcissa said in irritation.

They stood in mute silence for a moment, taking in the shabby brick homes that lined the cobbled street. A thick mist blanketed the neighborhood, hiding the sun from view.

"Are you sure that he lives here? In this Muggle hovel?" Bella asked in disgust.

Narcissa ignored her, ducking under the railing and hurrying across the road. Bella trailed behind her, keeping pace as Narcissa darted through the alley behind the row of houses, arriving at a second, equally run down street.

Bella hurried after her reaching out an arm to grasp her sisters arm with a firm grip, swinging her around. "Cissy, listen to reason. You cannot do this. He can't be trusted."

"The Dark Lord trusts him."

"The Dark Lord is...perhaps... mistaken," Bella said tentatively, looking around to make sure that they were alone. "We were told not to tell anyone. This is a betrayal," she ended firmly.

"Let go Bella!" Narcissa said, pulling her wand from her robe and pointing it in her sister's face.

Bella chucked. "I am your sister, I know that you would never..."

"There isn't anything I wouldn't do now!" Narcissa said, bringing her wand down against Bella's hand.

With a flash of light, Bella drew her hand away hissing in pain, the sting fierce.

"Narcissa!" she called, blinking away the temporary blindness that the flash had caused.

When her vision cleared, Narcissa was a full ten paces ahead of her, and Bella wisely kept her distance. Soon they came upon a street called Spinner's End. A giant mill chimney hovered over the street, casting it in deeper shadow. Only the click of their boots against the stones could be heard, as they strode down the street, stopping before the last house.

Walking up the stone steps, Narcissa paused a beat before rapping at the door. The door opened a crack, and a narrow face, surrounded by dull black hair appeared.

Narcissa pushed back her hood, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders in messy tangles. It was a contrast from her usual very polished look.

The door opened wider. "Narcissa. What a pleasant surprise."

"Severus," Narcissa swallowed, her voice hoarse. "May I speak to you? It is very important."

"Of course," Snape said motioning them inside. He led the sisters into his small sitting room. The room was paneled in dark wood, the curtains drawn tight. A decently sized fireplace showcased a cheery fire. It was the only welcoming addition to the room. He gestured to a beige sofa that had seen better days, its fabric worn, the seats sunken.

Narcissa removed her cloak, and sat. Bellatrix merely lowered her hood, sitting down on the edge of the couch beside her sister, and looking around the room in disgust.

"What can I do for you?" Snape asked, settling himself into an armchair across from the sisters.

"Are we alone? There are no other people here?" Narcissa asked.

"Wormtail is here, but he doesn't count," Snape said with a smirk.

He pointed his wand at the wall behind him, revealing a small, narrow staircase where Wormtail sat, frozen. He was caressing his silver hand, watery eyes avid with curiosity.

"Wormtail, get us some drinks, then you can retire to your room," said Snape. It was an obvious order, despite being posed as a request.

"I'm not your servant!" Wormtail squeaked.

"Really? I believe that the Dark Lord sent you here to assist me."

"Assist, yes, but not to become your unpaid servant!"

"Perhaps I can speak to the Dark Lord about your distaste with your current assignment. More dangerous tasks could be arranged," Snape said silkily.

"I don't need you for that. I can speak to him myself!"

"Of course you can, but in the interm, bring us drinks. The wine will do," Snape said in irritation.

Wormtail opened his mouth as if to argue, but thought better, stomping out of the room. His mumbled insults just short of audible, but the tone was clear. He didn't see Snape point his wand at his back with a murmured spell.

"What did you just do?" Bellatrix asked suspiciously.

Snape waved a hand. "Nothing but to assure that Wormtail won't find anything that we say of interest."

"Hmmph," Bellatrix sneered. "You see Cissy. As soon as we turn our backs..."

"Thank you for your discretion, Severus," Narcissa interrupted, with a sharp look toward her sister.

The clink of glasses heralded Wormtail's return. He placed a tray bearing a dusty bottle and three glasses on the rickety table between them, and immediately walked back out of the room with a slightly glassy look in his eyes.

Snape poured wine into the glasses, handing one to Narcissa and shrugging when Bella declined hers with a sneer.

"To the Dark Lord," he said raising his glass. Narcissa did the same, swallowing a deep drink of the heady liquid, then set the glass back on the tray.

"Severus," Narcissa began, "I must give you my apologies for invading your privacy in this way. I know that I aught not to be telling anyone this but–"

"Then maybe you should keep quiet," Bellatrix said, unable to keep her silence any longer. "Particularly with present company!"

"Present company?" Snape asked, his brow raised. His lazy pose belaying his watchful eyes.

"I do not trust you, Snape, and well you know it!"

Narcissa let out a sob, covering her face with her hands. Snape leaned forward in his seat, smiling into Bella's irate face.

"Please continue, Bellatrix. What reasons have you not to trust me?"

"Several! For starters, where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you not try to find him? Why are you so close to Dumbledore? Why have you not helped at every attempt to restore the Dark Lord? Why weren't you there when he was resurrected? Any why, after all these years, is Harry Potter still alive? You have had every chance to rectify the situation, yet you have done nothing!" She ended on a screech, her face flushed in anger.

"Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked all those questions? That if I had not given acceptable answers, that I would be sitting in front of you?"

Bella's mouth opened and closed, before she collected herself. "I know that he believes you, but..."

"You think that I have been able to fool the Dark Lord? The most accomplished Legilimens...the greatest wizard I have ever seen?"

Bella paled. She knew that she would have to tread carefully, "I never said..."

Snape cut her off. "I was where he ordered me to be, at Hogwarts, spying on Albus Dumbledore. You do realize that I was there on his orders."

Bella nodded slowly. She could not contradict that particular statement.

"As to your other questions, frankly like others, I believed him dead. It is not something that I am proud of, but he has forgiven me, as he has forgiven many others. He would have had few followers had he not."

"He would have had me! I spent years in Azkaban in loyal servitude," Bellatrix said fervidly.

"Admirable, but you weren't much use to him there, were you? I'm sure he appreciated the gesture," Snape said in a blasé tone.

"Gesture! Well, what about Harry Potter? Why is he still alive and well? What is your excuse for..." Bella began angrily.

"He was not mine to kill. Would you take that from the Dark Lord? Enough of this. Narcissa, you came to ask me for help?" Snape asked, turning his attention back to the blonde.

Bellatrix opened her mouth angrily to continue her tirade. "How dare you interrupt..."

Narcissa whipped out her wand, pointing it at her sister. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Bella's body froze in its position on the couch, her eyes wide with anger.

"Somnum Surdus," Narcissa said quietly, following her body bind spell.

Bella's eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep.

Snape looked on in interest. "I am intrigued. Why do you feel the need to curse you sister into a sleeping deafness?"

Narcissa breathed deeply, before sitting back down beside her limp sister. "Unlike my sister, I believe that you can be trusted. I am going to reveal to you a secret that I have never before spoken aloud. Not even when alone."

Snape nodded at her to continue.

"Lucius Malfoy is not Draco's father."

Snape's face registered shock before he composed his features. He was now fully engaged in the conversation. He knew how much Narcissa valued the Malfoy name. That she would say something like what had just left her mouth, well, it deserved attention just because of the sheer _trust_ that she had displayed while sharing it. "Well, Narcissa. I never would have guessed that, but really, what does this have to do with me?"

"It is not what you think. I was not unfaithful to my husband, at least not knowingly. That rather unpleasant revelation came later."

"I do not understand. How else would Draco's paternity be other than your husband if you didn't commit adultery?"

Narcissa's eyes closed for a moment. "Lucius and I married for practical reasons. His family was well connected, and I was from the noble House of Black. It seemed fitting. I was prepared to do my duty and I had hoped that we could at least be content together. I didn't agree with his decision to join the cause, but I had vowed to obey my husband and I took those vows seriously. I kept my silence, but I must be honest when I say that the choice was made with bitterness. We already spent very little time together and it became even less when he became active. Lucius was away for weeks on end, completing various tasks in the Dark Lord's service. I never knew when he would leave, because he often kept the knowledge from me. For awhile, my hope for a contented marriage was broken, but that all changed in a single night. One night as I slept, Lucius returned to me. I was surprised, we had not shared a bed for many months, but that night it was different. _He_ was different."

Narcissa reached forward to take a sip from her glass, her throat suddenly dry. "The next morning he was gone, and I did not see him again for a week. He was weary, completely tired to the bone and I did not wish to trouble him. Something had changed. He began to talk with me as never before, telling me small details about the task he had just completed. From those details I deduced that it was not my husband I slept with that night. He would not have had the time to come back that night. I was confused and dismayed of course, in shock, though I hid it well. Whoever it was looked _exactly_ like my Lucius. Frightened, I kept my silence and over the next few months my husband and I grew closer, and our marriage became a true one. Of course, soon after I found myself with child."

"You do not have any idea who the man was?" Snape asked carefully.

"I have my suspicions. I know that it was not another wizard. We have several wards against such activity placed upon our home. Even the polyjuice potion is rendered null. Whoever...whatever he was...he was very powerful. He was able to keep the charade the entire night. He fooled me completely, but he was careless, or at least unconcerned that the ruse would ever be found out. I really don't believe that he was...human," Narcissa said quietly.

"Why did Lucius not question the due date?" Snape asked, his mind mulling over the thought of Narcissa's otherworldly lover. That revelation would bear a little researching. Snape didn't like going into a situation without as much knowledge as he could. He would do his best to find out more about the strange occurrence. He already had a few ideas...

"I had a very troublesome pregnancy," Narcissa said. "I was put on bed rest very early, and still he was born preterm. Lucius and I had been trying for ages to become pregnant, and I made sure to – be with – my husband in a timely manner, so there wouldn't be...questions. He was so happy that he had a son, that if it ever occurred to him, he never questioned. Thankfully, Draco was born with blond hair and gray eyes. He takes after me in features, so you would never think he was not a Malfoy. He was a frightfully small baby, he almost died even, but he was a perfectly formed. Not a strange thing about him appearance wise. I had been afraid that...something would be different. Everything was like it should be; ten fingers, ten toes, but for the fact that he was an unusually quiet child. He didn't fuss, or coo, and he cried very seldom. Lucius believed that we just were very lucky first time parents, but I knew better. I don't regret my son, despite the circumstances of his conception. He brought Lucius and I together, and he is a smart, handsome, talented boy."

Snape sat back in his chair, before speaking. "While all of this is very _interesting_, why have you come to _me_ specifically?"

"You know of the plan..."

"I do know, but if I had not already been aware you would be guilty of treachery."

"I thought that you would know. He trusts you so!"

"He does." Snape said simply. "Now, what help do you require? I cannot change the Dark Lord's mind. I have not the sway that you imagine if you think that that is possible."

Tears began to roll down Narcissa's face. "It is too dangerous! He is only sixteen, he thinks himself a man grown. I care not what the age of consent is! He is my son, my only son. I love my husband, but this is a punishment for Lucius's mistake. I will not have my child pay the price!"

"If Draco succeeds he will be honored above all others," Snape said.

"He won't! How could he when the Dark Lord himself..." Narcissa sobbed.

"Careful," Snape warned.

Narcissa was mute for a moment. "I only meant...that nobody has ever...Please Severus...You are Draco's favorite teacher...Lucius's old friend. I beg of you...the Dark Lord trusts you...perhaps you can persuade him."

"He will not change his mind, and I am not stupid enough to suggest that he do so," Snape said bluntly. "The Dark Lord is angry with Lucius. He was in charge, and he got himself captured, along with many others. He also failed to retrieve the prophesy. The Dark lord is _very_ angry."

"Then its true! He has chosen Draco in revenge! He doesn't care that my boy will die trying!"

Narcissa came out of her chair and knelt at Snape's knee, clutching his robe. "You could do it. Please! You could do it instead of Draco! I will get you anything you need. Money? Prestige? I could foster many new relationships for you. I still have many valuable connections. Whatever you ask."

Snape caught hold of her wrists, removing them from his person. "I will probably end up doing the deed in the end. I think the Dark Lord intends for Draco to _try_. In the event that he succeeds then I will be able to remain in my position as a spy for the cause, and if he doesn't... "

"So, it doesn't matter if Draco dies? Is that it?" Narcissa said standing. She looked into the fireplace, watching the flames dance, her hand clutched in her robes.

"The Dark Lord is angry, and he does not forgive easily."

Narcissa began weeping softly again, before her spine firmed. "Whatever you ask, Severus. Anything." she said eye teary eyes level with his, her meaning very clear. She would give herself to him, forsake her vows, if it meant that Draco would live.

Snape looked at her for a long moment. "That will not be necessary. Please have a seat, there is a way that may be possible for me to help Draco."

Narcissa sat, relieved. She did not take her vows lightly, but she would go to Hell and back for her son. "You would look after him? See that he comes to no harm?"

"I can try."

"Will you swear to it? Will you make the Unbreakable vow?"

"I will. Perhaps you should wake your sister to be our bonder?"

Narcissa turned in her seat, drawing her wand from her robes, pointing the instrument at her sister. "Solue oblivisci audire. You will not remember the body bind, you will not notice the time that has passed, you will regain consciousness."

Snape watched Narcissa with a touch more respect. That was a nice bit of spellwork, and he wondered from what dark tome she had learned it. It was much more gentle than Obliviate, and didn't leave the blank spots and befuddlement that resulted from the other spell.

Bellatrix slowly stirred, reaching over to the tray to finally take a sip of her wine. She wondered why she was suddenly, desperately thirsty. "What are you bloody staring at?" she asked when she noticed their fixed looks.

Narcissa sighed a bit in relief. "Nothing, sister. Did you hear what I just said?"

Bellatrix blinked. "No, you will have to repeat it. I wasn't paying attention," she admitted grudgingly.

"Severus has agreed to make the Unbreakable vow."

Bella's brow rose in disbelief. "Really? You won't try to wriggle from the situation? Oh, I know strictly at the Dark Lord's orders," she finished sarcastically.

"Certainly not," said Snape. "In fact, we wish for you to be our bonder."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open. She watched Snape help Narcissa to her feet. To her amazement they grasped right hands.

"You will need your wand," Snape said pointedly.

Bella drew it, moving to the side of them. She placed the tip of her wand on their hands.

"Will you, Severus, watch over my son, as he attempts to fill the Dark Lord's wishes?" Narcissa said.

"I will," Snape said in answer.

A tendril of flame came from the wand, wrapping around their joined hands.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"

"I will," said Snape.

A second tendril of flame twisted with the first.

Narcissa tightened her hand within the grasp. "And, should it prove necessary...if it seems that Draco will fail," she whispered, "Will you carry out the task that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"

There was a moment of silence, and Bella was sure that this would be when Snape would back out.

"I will," said Snape.

A third tendril of flame erupted from the wand, joining the others and wrapping their clasped hands in a brilliantly braided rope.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

The day that Taryn checked out of the hospital was a surprisingly bright sunny day for London. She woke up that morning and dressed comfortably in a pair of black yoga pants paired with a green v neck tee-shirt that made the most of her auburn hair, bringing out the rich red highlights. On her feet she wore a pair of plain black trainers. After asking for a few hair pins, she twirled her thick mane into the high bun that Tracey had seemed to prefer. Taryn figured that since she would be meeting her father for the first time, she should fix herself in a way that would seem familiar to him. She sat down on the bed, wishing that she was in a Muggle hospital instead. At least there she could watch telly until Nigel showed.

"Taryn?"

Hermione, or rather, Taryn turned toward the softly questioning voice.

A man stood in the doorway of her hospital room. With one look Taryn immediately knew that this man was Tracey's father, Nigel Davis.

Nigel had ash brown hair, liberally streaked with gray. He was a tall, solidly built man, who looked very far from the businessman that he was and more like the blue collar worker that he had been. Nigel and his daughter both had the same arresting, electric blue eyes. He was in his early fifties, but he was still a handsome, compelling man.

Nigel hesitated for a moment before stepping fully into the room, his dark blue robes crinkled from travel. She knew that he wore the robes simply because they were expected. Nigel was a man more at home wearing jeans and a button down flannel shirt. He cleared his throat, "They told me that things were going to be strange for you for awhile. I hear that you don't want to be called Tracey, that you prefer Taryn." His voice was melodic, the type of voice that you didn't expect to come from that big barrel chest.

He looked like he was a man that should be chopping lumber. It was funny that instead he was the CEO of a overseas container shipping line, transporting items for wizards and Muggles alike, though of course the methods differed.

Nigel had started from the bottom up, repairing ship engines to put himself through business school. He had gone to Hogwarts, his brain getting him sorted directly in to Ravenclaw. His parents of course, understood little about the wizarding world being Muggles. While Nigel had loved the fact that he was a wizard, he didn't like the limited amount of fields in wizarding careers. His parents, who had died before Tracey was born, had been very proud of their son, their faces alight as they watched the first person in their family graduate from university.

Nigel had hit the ground running, writing business proposals and finding partners to fund the fledgling business, though he maintained executive control. He had worked his fingers to the bone, his only break being when he met the beautiful Pureblood socialite Claudia Flint. The delicate blonde had fallen in love with the burly businessman seemingly at first sight, spinning wizarding society on its axis. Both the age difference, Nigel had been a good bit older, and the difference in blood status. Claudia had ignored it all and married her love. They had lived blissfully for the next five years, joyous when Claudia found herself pregnant.

Their love had ended in tragedy when Claudia died from labor complications, after giving birth to their small daughter.

Nigel had buried himself in his work, turning the simple container ship line into a a global business conglomerate with ventures in many business areas, though mainly within the transportation and energy sectors. He maintained his ship line of course, and became the worlds largest container ship and supply vessel operator in the world. Nigel Davis was a success in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, but he always made time for his daughter, though not as much as he would like in the recent years.

Taryn nodded at him, committing his familiar face into _her_ own memories. "Yes, well, I guess that I don't feel like the same old Tracey," she said softly.

Nigel seemed to overcome his reserve, rushing forward to draw his daughter into a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head. "Well you look like my Tracey, but if you want to be called Taryn, then that is what I will call you. I am glad to have you back with me, my daughter," he said emotion choking his voice.

Taryn was still in his arms, confusion warring within her. She didn't know this man. He was Tracey's father, yet she had memories of him. Tucking her into bed, reading her to sleep, and trying his best to to comb her hair, but ending with a crooked ponytail for his endeavors. It was strange. It was like watching a movie, but with the mute button turned on. You saw all of the images, but you didn't get the dialog or the accompanying music. There wasn't anything to attach her emotionally, and while she could _see _that Nigel was a good father, she couldn't _feel_ it.

Taryn raised a hand to pat Nigel awkwardly on the back. "Well, I'm glad to be back," she said hoarsely, guilt killing her. This man didn't even know that his daughter was dead, a doppelganger in her place. That is what Taryn felt like, a stand in, and she felt terrible that this man didn't even have the option to grieve.

Nigel nodded, releasing her. "I don't mind that you may be _different_. I am just glad to have my daughter back. You must be ready to go home. I know that hospital food is the pits," he said jokingly, his blue eyes twinkling.

She found herself smiling in response. "You got that right."

Taryn filled out the proper discharge papers, and despite her protests, was seated in a wheelchair and taken down to the hospital lobby.

"I can walk perfectly fine," she groused.

Nigel smiled down at his daughter in amusement. "Its hospital policy. I know that you feel fine, but it would make us all feel better if you took it easy." He nodded his thanks at the mediwitch before she turned, wheeling the chair away.

Nigel pulled out his wand, tapping it on the small cuff on his wrist. Minutes later a black Rolls-Royce Phantom IV pulled up to the curb, its engine idling quietly.

A man of medium height wearing a black suit, leather gloves, and a matching hat stepped from the drivers seat. His shoes were polished to such a shine, that Taryn was sure if she looked she could see her refection in them.

As soon as his gaze alighted on Taryn, his wide mouth broke into a smile, transforming his rather plain pale face.

"Miss Taryn! I'm very glad to see that you are okay. Catherine has been so worried. I think that she baked three chocolate cakes in anticipation of your arrival," the man said as he opened the backseat door for Taryn and her father.

Taryn's brow crinkled for a moment as she thought. The man's name was Reginald Withers, and she had memories of him dropping her off at primary school. Catherine, his wife, was a short motherly woman with soft green eyes and a rather plump figure due to all the baking she did when she allowed herself to become upset. Due to the stress and worry over Voldemort's return, she was baking more than ever.

Reggie and Cathy had been with the Davis family for years, and the relationship wasn't strictly employee and employer any longer. The couple were closer to family, and since they were childless, Tracey had become their child by proxy.

"I can't wait to eat some. You won't believe how awful the food is at St. Mungo's. I swear, if I see another square of gelatin in the next six months, well I might start a wave of Jell-O art. I think it would look better sliding down the wall," Taryn said.

Reggie and Nigel chucked, shaking their heads at the notion.

...

The drive to Dorset seemed to fly by and soon they were slowly driving down the street to Davis house.

Despite being surrounded by a large stone wall and an equally tall gate, Davis House was a modest home set directly in the center of large grounds. The house was a large two story mock bungalow, with several outbuildings set in back that included a six car garage. A trail leading down to a private beach provided a breathtaking backdrop for the home.

Taryn loved the house on first sight. She was glad that she would not be living in a large austere manor home with dusty sets of armor in its halls. The house was painted a calm gray-blue with darker blue accents. The inset front porch was painted white, the color echoing on the tops of the four columns that accented the porch. The base of the columns were set with slate gray and bluish round stones and gave the home a organic feel.

Nigel had built the home for Claudia after they had toured the states on their honeymoon. They had fallen in love with the bungalow home type and had wanted something similar for their own home.

Taryn walked up the wide steps, glancing at the inviting porch swing before walking through the beautiful twin panel door with its single-panel sidelites all done in a rich mahogany.

They entryway was painted in a golden beige and led directly into the living room also painted in the same shade. A large hearth used the same stones found in the columns outside. Surrounding the hearth were large wood lined patio doors leading out to the back yard and the sea beyond.

"Dad, if you don't mind, I'm going upstairs to rest a bit," Taryn lied. She actually wanted to make a thorough snoop around Tracey's room.

"That's fine. I will have one of the house elves come to wake you for supper. We have many things to discuss," Nigel said.

Taryn nodded walking upstairs to her new bedroom. When she stepped in she found that she actually liked the decor.

The bed was the focal point of the room. It was a simple, yet sculptural white painted wooden four-poster king size bed. It had a white tailored muslin valance topping it that matched the white comforter. Placed upon it were mounds of snowy white, blue, and mint green pillows. The green of the pillows matched the soft soothing green painted walls. Behind the bed were a series of sliding windows that led out to a large balcony that boasted a small table and chair set. To the right of the bed was a large white set of drawers and a walk in closet that Taryn fully intended to explore. To the left of the bed was a small, white bedside table that held a small blue lamp. Also to the left was a white, soft looking armchair with a blue throw draped on back. There were twelve muted green picture frames with white mounts, all displaying French watercolor prints.

Taryn walked to set of built in bookcases, and while noting the beautifully bound selection of classics, she was more interested in the many photo albums.

She pulled a thick pale pink album first and found it filled with pictures of just Tracey. It seemed that Tracey had studied ballet based on the amount of photos depicting the girl doing various poses. The photos didn't tell Taryn much beyond the fact that Tracey had been able to perform a beautiful arabesque on point. That photo, seemed to be the most recent. Tracey had apparently been very serious about her dancing. Taryn knew that if she wanted to pass herself off as Tracey, well, she had better become serious about it herself. She wasn't afraid, it was learning after all, and Taryn had never backed down from knowledge.

She looked all around the room, but apart from the Slytherin robes in the huge closet, there wasn't much to go on to prepare her for Slytherin house. Oh, she had vague memories, but nothing concrete. It seemed that she actually needed to be in the place, or meet the a particular person before more memories would reveal themselves. It frustrated her beyond belief, and she found herself actually taking the nap that the had lied about.

...

Taryn didn't know how to interact with this man. Nigel was not sure where to start with the many revelations that he had to share.

"Taryn," he began, "There are serious things that we need to discuss."

Taryn looked up from the glass of tea that she had been stirring, sweetener packets decorating the table in front of her. "What sorts of things?"

"You know that I have never been a believer in coddling you. I think that it is important that you know that things are about to change for us. Some things have already changed. First a bit of good news. Jillian and I have married," Nigel said, watching Taryn sharply for her reaction.

Taryn nodded slowly. It was a good thing. Jillian Kane was a lovely woman. At least from the snippets of memory that she had. Nigel and Jillian had dated for years, meeting for the first time when Jillian became Tracey's private dance instructor.

Jillian was pretty woman, with deep anthracite colored hair and matching eyes. Despite being a talented witch, she had immersed herself in the study of dance, reaching the rank of principal artist of Terpsikhore Ballet, under the tutelage of Sergei Chekhov, a master of dance himself. When an injury ended her performance career, Jillian devoted herself to the instruction of dance, leading the way for many other hopeful girls. It seemed that Tracey, for a time, had wanted to follow in her famous teacher's footsteps. Tracey had been a good dancer solid dancer, not had not the greatness needed for a principal position, but still she had hoped for a place within a ballet company. Years of study, recitals, and performances had bonded the Jillian and Tracey. Jillian had been important to the Tracey and Taryn knew that it would be important to foster a relationship with the woman.

"I'm very glad for you, Dad," Taryn finally said.

Nigel smiled in relief. He knew that Tracey and Jillian adored each other, but he had still had a bout of nervousness at telling his only child. With the uncertainty of life in these trying times, and the accident that had happened to Tracey, well waiting didn't seem to be as important any longer.

Jillian was quite a bit younger than he, in her mid-thirties, while he was in his fifties, but their love was genuine. He had fallen in love with Jillian's gentle nature, and the fact that she loved his child. The love that she had for Tracey, well that had placed her above any of the other women that vied for his attention. Despite being an older gentleman, Nigel had plenty women that would come to him at a snap of his fingers. He didn't delude himself into thinking that it was his handsome face, though he _was_ handsome in a rugged sort of way, it was more the fortune that he maintained, the constantly building revenue. Jillian, he knew, loved him for himself.

She had known him before his business had grown into the success that it now was, a global force to be reckoned with. He had capitalized on both the market within the wizarding community and the Muggle one. Davis Line was now a conglomerate, five hundred container ships strong. He also dabbled in air transportation maintaining a fleet of sleep carrier planes both for transportation of people and goods.

"It makes me happy that you approve. Jillian is very happy as well. We had a small, civil ceremony, but we plan to have something a bit more traditional now that you are well. Perhaps over the Christmas holiday. Jillian would have been here today, but we both thought it was best that you and I have some time together, just us. She is at her sister's home, but should be back tomorrow."

A house elf arrived then with their meals. Both applied themselves to cutting their steaks, before Nigel spoke again. "I have been approached by agents of the Dark Lord," Nigel said quietly, staring down at his meal. He was suddenly no longer hungry.

Taryn pushed her food away from her, her mind racing. It was bad enough not to be in her own body, and a Slytherin to boot. She would be damned if she lived in the home of a Death Eater!

She clutched the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. "And, what did you say to them?" she asked quietly, her voice carefully calm. She glanced into his stricken face.

"Tracey," Nigel said, forgetting to call her Taryn, "I can't refuse the Dark Lord outright. It is a precarious position in which I find myself. You and Jillian mean everything to me. I will do whatever I have to to keep you safe, including taking the Dark Mark if need be, but I hope that it will not come to that. War takes money, you know, and that is something that we have in abundance. I hope to keep my involvement to only that level," Nigel said on a whisper.

"You would really fund that monster?" Taryn asked, no longer able to feign calmness, her face screwed in disgust.

"If it means keeping my wife and daughter safe, then yes. Please don't judge me so harshly. I think that I may send you both to my friend, Desmond Phillips, in the States. He has a comfortable home there, and while I haven't seen him in years, I'm sure that he will make sure you and Jillian are very comfortable." Nigel said.

Taryn backtracked quickly. "No! I have to go back to Hogwarts. I feel that I shouldn't let the Dark Lord rule all of my actions, and really Dad, Hogwarts is one of the safest places there are," she said hastily. Taryn wanted to be there for Harry and Ron, but she also needed to be there for her sanity. She couldn't lose the last speck of her former life.

"Perhaps you're right," Nigel said hesitantly, "But know that if I deem it necessary, I will remove you from school, and you will be sent straight to Wisconsin. Desmond has a farm there, and I doubt that anyone will remember our friendship. It is a safer place there now. Besides, wouldn't you like to learn to be a milkmaid?" Nigel asked smiling, trying in vain to lighten the mood.

"I enjoy cheese as much as the next person, but I don't love it enough to work with the source," Taryn said wryly.

…

Taryn got up the next morning just before dawn. She sleepily made her way to her private bathroom, showered, and donned a comfortable black boy short tank style unitard, under which were pink tights, and secured her slightly damp hair into a bun. She pulled on point shoes, then slid black thigh-high leg warmers up her legs. She both wanted to maintain Tracey's routine, but mostly she was curious to know if she could actually dance strictly by accessing the girls memories.

She quietly shut her bedroom door behind her, making her way to the dance studio that Nigel had built for his daughter after it became apparent that she was serious about ballet.

The room had a bright airy feel. It was a large rectangular room, approximately the size of a typical stage. One wall had a complete wall of windows, about waist high, with a barre directly beneath it. In fact, all of the walls had a barre, even the one that was completely covered in mirrors. The floor was a nice rich wood with a little give in it, for better jumping.

Confused as to where to begin, Taryn moved to the small Muggle sound system off to one corner. Don Quixote by Minkus filled the room. The music seemed to ground her, and whether it was muscle memory, or a lingering gift from those above, Taryn knew _exactly _what to do.

She moved through a set of stretching exercises, before moving to the barre. She started with a few simple plié exercises, moving through the positions slowly. From there she moved to relevé movements, stretching her arms and legs and moving on her toes with her feet turned outwards.

The part of herself that was still firmly Hermione was amazed, but to the body the movements were simply old hat.

She moved away from the barre and down onto the floor into a split, increasing the strength of her legs and warming the muscles.

She went through what must have been a regular exercise for Tracey, ending with a the beautiful arabesque that she had seen in the photo.

…

Taryn spent the final week before she returned to school getting to know Tracey's father and stepmother.

It was apparent that the couple loved each other a great deal, and she couldn't help but think that Tracey had been a lucky girl. She wondered what had made the sorting hat place the girl in Slytherin, but she found that Tracey's feelings about things didn't register within her. It was all for the better. She didn't need the girl's feelings coloring how she felt about the people in her life. She simply wanted the memories so she didn't seem like a _completely_ different person.

One drawback that she encountered was the fact that Tracey's wand simply didn't work for her. She was dismayed to learn that Ollivander had disappeared, his shop boarded and empty.

"Perhaps it is the trauma of your accident," Jillian said as they all sat down to dinner the night before she was to return to school, "Maybe it changed you in a fundamental level. I do have to say, my dear, that you are different, not in a bad way mind you, just...I don't know...a bit more solemn." Jillian looked on the girl in concern. She had known the child since she was the tender age of five, and was more like a mother than a teacher.

"Perhaps," Taryn had said, slightly alarmed. She had been doing her utmost to project how she thought Tracey had acted before finally giving up. She wasn't going to spend the rest of her life acting a part. Despite the ballet, which she found she rather liked, she was Hermione to the bone.

"Well, Ollivander's was the best," Nigel had said, thinking. "I wonder if...Wait here," he said jumping to his feet and walking briskly upstairs. He returned with a long, sliver etched box. Inside, a silver lime wand rested on a blue velvet bottom.

"This was your mother's wand. It has a dragon heartstring core, which is different from the unicorn core that your wand has. I just thought that maybe, well, that it might work for you," Nigel said, extending the box toward Taryn.

Jillian and Nigel watched as she reached for the wand. Her hand warmed upon contact with the wand, and a breeze seemingly from nowhere blew the thick strands of her hair from her face. She felt an immediate connection with the wand.

"Well, I think that settles it," Jillian said breathlessly.

Taryn was relieved. The fact that she was unable to use her own wand had been a sore point, but she was glad to have a new one. A surprising revelation had become known to her when a school owl arrived with Tracey's O.W.L scores. She hadn't known what to expect, but was pleased to note that Tracey had been a rather bright girl. She had received mostly Exceeds Expectations, and two Outstandings. One in Potions and the other in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She would have rather had all Outstandings, but she knew that she should be happy with what she had received. At least she wouldn't have to take remedial classes.

She spent the night before she was to return to Hogwarts packing up piles of Tracey's rather chic clothes. It seemed that the girl had been a full on fashionista, which was a change from the jeans and tee-shirts that had been the staple in Hermione Granger's closet.

Oh, Tracey had jeans, but they were designer. Looking at some of the items, she goggled at the price tags. Who in their right mind would spend so much on a bloody pair of jeans? In fact, she would have been hard pressed to accept them as even a gift, but she knew that if she wanted to keep up appearances she would have to wear the expensive items.

* * *

Draco was nearly too late for the train. He had had one more stop to make before he boarded. After saying goodbye to his mother, he had stopped by Kramer's to pick up his special order item.

Kramer's was the wizarding world's equivalent to a retail home improvement store. He used a false name and glamour to preserve his identity, and went to pick up his order. Since he was paying for it out of his own money, the pretense was needed to maintain his privacy. Glamour's were a little used art in this day and age, with the creation of the polyjuice potion and similar charms. Despite the difficulty in brewing polyjuice, it was easier to simply drink to achieve the look of a different person. It took far more magic, working off the innate energy of a witch or wizard to change subtle aspects of their features. Draco had actually found out about the art while looking at a dusty tome in the Malfoy family library. It was a book about feminine enhancement dating back to the Renaissance, and he would die a painful bloody death before he told anyone that he was more than proficient in the art.

He entered the warehouse like store, approaching a man in the signature green robes.

"Can you tell me where special orders are picked up?" he asked.

The man looked at him in annoyance, taking in his dark brown hair and shabby, patched robes. "The Special Items Department is located in the furthermost western corner of the store. Go down aisle five hundred, and take a left," he said in a falsely friendly voice, his look indicating that he didn't think Draco could afford a special order.

Draco simply nodded, moving over to the moving walkway that would take him rapidly through the enormous store, pressing a button for his destination. He whizzed past aisles and aisles of crammed shelves, barely catching a glimpse of the air-dollies that raised customers to the items they wished to buy.

Finally he reached the Special Items Department. He walked up to the large wooden desk, waiting patiently for the witch behind the counter to acknowledge his presence. She was young, possibly only a few years older than he was, with a sleek black angled bob and big green eyes behind stylish blue glasses. The royal blue glasses matched her tailored robes. Her name tag said Charlene. She was pretty and she knew it.

Draco cleared his throat after he had been standing in silence, with no acknowledgment, for a full five minutes.

Rolling her eyes, she glanced at him. "Yes, can I help you?" Her voice was monotone and bored.

Draco smirked a bit. He knew that if he was in front of her without the glamour then she would be falling all over herself. He wasn't conceited, he just knew that he was handsome and what his face didn't do, the Malfoy name usually accomplished.

"I have an order to pick up. The name is Carter Pennywhistle."

Charlene pushed a metallic sleeve toward the end of the desk. "Please swipe your wand for verification."

Draco pulled out a wand. It was a disposable dummy wand imprinted with the alias Carter Pennywhistle. Swiping the wand, he watched as the name appeared on the parchment in front of the witch. Her eyes bugged a bit at the price that appeared, before she composed herself. She quickly glanced and the Draco again, noting his worn robes and badly cut brown hair.

"Are you sure that this item is correct, sir?" she asked sliding the parchment across the desk for him to peruse.

Draco quickly scanned the order. It all seemed to be in order. He had ordered a portable Room of Requirement for the private room he had leased in Slytherin House. The construction of a Room of Requirement was dearly expensive and he had only been able to afford the portable variety. Even the ones that were category based were insanely expensive. His would only open to a sparring/exercise room, and was setting him back a good five thousand Galleons. It was a large chunk of his underground fighting prize money.

"It all seems to be in order," he said quietly, sliding the paper back across the counter.

She sighed, obviously not believing that he would have the complete amount. His robes looked at least two years out of fashion. "How do you intend to pay sir? Credit or coin?"

"In coin," Draco said, pulling out a heavy coin pouch. He didn't want a paper trail and had gone out of his way to make the purchase quietly. He counted out the proper amount and watched as she tapped her wand against the parchment to make a copy for his records, before sliding the duplicate back across the counter to him.

Draco carefully folded the document and placed it inside of his robes. He would dispose of the paper at a later time, when it would be safe to do so.

"I will be right back with your purchase sir," Charlene said, her voice far more polite than it had previously been.

She returned with a small cardboard box. Draco pulled up the lid, examining the Reduced doorway inside that rested on bubble wrap. The door, when sized correctly would attach itself to the wall in his room. Included was small golden key affixed to a matching chain. Slipping the chain around his neck, he tucked it down his collar and turned to leave.

Because he was still Draco Malfoy after all, her turned back to the witch, giving her a rakish smile, before striding away.

Charlene couldn't understand why her knees had just gone weak.

…

Draco watched as an attractive witch, at least from the back, dropped her tote, quills and papers sliding across the floor. She was wearing a green jumper and a short skirt that was cupping a very appealing bum.

She was a Hogwarts student of course, since she was past the barrier at platform 9 and ¾ . He watched her push her thick cinnamon colored hair over one shoulder, and begin to pick up the fallen items. Upon closer inspection he found that she was from his house. One of Pansy's roomates. The quiet one, Tracey.

His mouth quirked in amusement as he listened to her curse under her breath. Walking closer, he bent to help her gather the fallen items, his hand colliding with hers.

"Thank you so much! I don't know what happened..." her sentence trailed off as she looked into his face, big blue eyes widening.

Draco's brow drew together in confusion. She was looking at him like he was the bloody anti-Christ. "Is everything okay, Tracey? It is Tracey isn't it?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, lips pursed. "Just fine, Malfoy...er...Draco. I had it sorted."

His eyebrow rose. "Really? I don't usually call quills "bloody wankers" when I have a situation sorted, and its usually customary to thank someone when they've helped you," he said wryly.

He watched as her pretty face flushed, bright color appearing on her cheeks. "Well, thanks, I guess." She clutched her bag to her like she thought he was a purse snatcher, and walked briskly away mounting the train steps.

It seemed that he ruffled the little witch's feathers. In a time when he didn't have many amusements, it would be nice to prick at her a bit.

He followed her inside, ignoring her glare when he sat across from her.

"Don't you want your own compartment? What about your friends?," she asked, her tone sharp.

"Oh, they will find me," he said looking at her intently. He didn't care if they joined him or not. He had noticed Tracey before, she was a pretty girl after all, but nothing had ever made his gaze want to linger. Now there was something about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on just what it was. It was like plain apple pie, while good on its own, when you added vanilla ice cream, well it became something altogether more scrumptious.

Tracey hadn't dated any blokes, at least not any that he could recall. Definitely a many had tried to get into her knickers, but she had always seemed disinterested. He didn't think she swung the other way either, Pansy would have told him that long ago. Pansy always seemed to know the dirt on other witches, and she made it one of her priorities to inform Draco of their many and varied faults. She hadn't said much about Tracey, only stating that it was a shame that a girl with so many stylish clothes was so boring. Of course, he could only trust about half of what Pansy said. The girl wanted badly to be his girlfriend, and while they had been exclusive for only a short time, Draco hadn't wanted to be tied down. Oh, he might shag her again once or twice, but she wasn't going to get a Malfoy jewel on her finger, like she most desperately wanted.

Tracey seemed anything but boring to him, and he couldn't understand why he had never noticed it before. She had a verve about herself that seemed tangible, like a bubble. Despite the frank "Don't bother me" vibes that she was sending, it was a bubble that he very much wanted to...prick. He wanted to watch the iridescent shards scatter at her feet as she succumbed to him. He literally had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the venture.

"What's with the attitude Tracey? I don't think you and I have ever had a disagreement so I don't understand the hostility," he asked finally after the compartment had been silent for for several minutes as the train picked up speed.

She seemed to pause for a moment. "I'm sorry. I guess I've just been having a bad day. I'm sorry that I've been taking it out on you. I don't go by Tracey any longer though. Please, call me Taryn."

"Taryn," he said out loud, testing the name on his lips. The name suited her. It had a bit more spice than Tracey, and it seemed to match her.

The door to the compartment slid open, and Pansy poked her head in. Her eyes narrowed as she looked from Draco to Taryn sitting alone together in the secluded compartment.

"Draco, are you going to come and sit with the rest of us?" she asked in a sugary sweet tone. As an afterthought she grudgingly added, "Tracey you are welcome as well if you want," she said her voice clearly showed that she would like nothing less.

"No, I think that I'll stay here," Taryn said quietly.

Draco stood, but hesitated. He didn't really want to leave, but he knew that it would look odd if he didn't. "Are you sure that you don't want to come," he asked Taryn.

"No, I have some reading that I need to catch up on," the girl said, ignoring his widening eyes as she pulled an enormous book from her small bag. Flipping the book open, she began to read, ignoring him completely.

Draco cleared his throat and she glanced back at him. Gray eyes locked with blue intensely. "I guess I'll be seeing you later, Taryn," he said, promise in his voice.

His eyes locked on her lips as she drew the lower one in, biting it. She seemed to regroup, "Of course you will. We are in the same house after all."

Draco smiled at her, one corner of his mouth quirked, before turning to follow Pansy down the corridor. As soon as the compartment closed behind him, the bit of levity that he had gained seemed to drain away, and the bog of responsibility rose around him.

"Taryn? Now she wants to be called Taryn? What a pedestrian name! Half-blood's!," Pansy said sourly, before turning to Draco. The corridor was empty, and she took the opportunity to slide against him. "We could make a detour to an empty compartment before joining the others, if you want," she said, her hand sliding down to caress him through his pants.

Ordinarily Draco would have let the witch pull him into a compartment. Pansy was good for a bj, when they didn't have time for a proper shag, but he found himself uninterested. Oh, body wise he could shag the hell out of her, but his mind didn't want the involvement.

He reached down to grab her wrist, kissing the top of her hand when she pouted. Draco was nothing if not opportunistic, and he didn't believe in pissing in his own pool. There might be a time when he fancied a shag, or some other use that Pansy might have.

"Not today, love. Raincheck?" he asked looking down at her. He allowed a bit of smolder to catch in his eyes, and watched as she visibly melted.

"Of course," she said breathlessly, placated.

"Most everyone is here already," she said as they reached the compartment, "but Blaise is at some silly gathering with Professor Slughorn."

Draco sat with his friends, and began to make idle conversation. Blaise Zabini entered a bit later. He tried to close the door, slamming it repeatedly against a blockage.

"What's wrong with this thing?" said Blaise angrily.

Draco watched as the door swung open forcefully, sending Blaise toppling into Goyle's lap. He thought that he saw a flash of white, but his attention was drawn elsewhere when Blaise and Goyle began snarling at each other.

"What what you are bloody doing, Zabini! You could have ruined the family jewels!" Goyle said crossly.

"Its not like you will have any use for them. Who would want to reproduce with you?" Zabini said, watching as the other wizard tried to process the insult.

"Hey!" Goyle finally said, frowning. By then Blaise had already sat down in his seat.

Draco annoyed at the situation and wanting to diffuse it said, "So, Zabini, What did Slughorn want?"

He leaned away as Pansy brushed a bit of his hair from his forehead, ignoring her slightly miffed look. She placed her hand on his arm instead.

Zabini sat back in his seat, his arms crossed. "Just trying to make up to some well-connected people. Not that there were many there."

"Who else was there?" Draco asked.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor."

"Yeah, his uncle is big at the ministry," Draco said.

"Belby from Ravenclaw and Potter, the Weasley girl, and Longbottom," Zabini finished.

Draco sat up, knocking Pansy's hand aside. "Longbottom? What's he got that would interest Slughorn?"

Zabini shrugged.

"Oh, we all know why he wanted Potter there. Wanted a look at the _Chosen One,_" Draco said sarcastically, "And what about the Weasley girl? She can't offer much more than Longbottom."

"A lot of boys fancy her," Pansy said, watching Draco from the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction. "Even you think that she is good-looking, don't you Blaise, and we know how hard you are to please."

"I wouldn't touch a filthy blood traitor like her if she was naked on a silver platter," Zabini said, his mouth curled in disgust. Pansy looked pleased by this.

"So, you haven't owled me all summer," Pansy said just slightly over a whisper. Of course everyone in the compartment leaned in to listen.

"I've had a lot of things on my plate lately," Draco said, shrugging away from her. "I'll have all the time I need to owl you soon," he said, lying. He had no intention of keeping contact with her outside of school. "I probably won't be back next year."

"What do you mean you won't be back next year? Is it something to do with Him?" Pansy said, positively salivating over the answer.

Draco was uncomfortable. He wished that he hadn't brought it up at all, because now he would be expected to gloat, when he felt anything but proud. "I might have moved on to bigger things," he said forcing a smirk to his face. "Mother wants me to finish my education of course, but what will O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s matter when the Dark Lord is in power? It will be all about who served the best."

"And you think that you can do something for him," Zabini asked, scoffing, "Sixteen and unqualified?"

"Maybe what he needs from me doesn't require qualification," Draco said quietly. He wasn't stupid. He knew that he would probably die in the process attempting to complete his task, but he hoped it would not be so. He would do everything in his power to keep his mother safe.

"I can see Hogwarts," Draco said, changing the conversation. "We should get our robes on."

Everyone moved to pull out their robes, and he heard a strange sound as Goyle pulled down his trunk. Draco knew what a hiss of pain sounded like, and he had just heard one. Rage immediately filled him. He couldn't believe how careless he had been. Someone had been listening to the conversation the entire time, and if it caused his mother her life, he would never forgive himself.

He forced himself to behave like he hadn't heard a thing, removing his robes from his trunk, pulling them on and re-locking the trunk, and the train slowed to a crawl before finally stopping.

Goyle threw open the door, pushing everyone aside, Crabble and Zabini following.

Pansy waited for him impatiently, finally moving to go when he said, " You go ahead, I need to check something."

After she had gone, he quietly shut the compartment door, pulling down the shade. He moved to his trunk, covertly sliding his wand from his robes. With a swift turn to the luggage loft, he shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry Potter hit the floor with a thud, his cloak falling away.

Draco smiled nastily. "I thought so. I heard Goyle's trunk hit you, and earlier I thought I saw a flash of white. Chosen one, eh? Can't even spy properly. One wonders why they think you can kill the Dark Lord."

He walked closer until his shoe was directly by Harry's face. "You didn't hear anything that I care about Potter, but while I have you here," his shoe stamped down on Harry's face with unerring accuracy. He watched as the boys nose broke, blood streaming down his face. Potter was lucky. He had actually gotten off easy. Draco could have done much more damage is he had wanted to.

He crouched down next to the boy. "Stay the fuck out of my business, Potter, " he said in a deadly whisper.

Draco dragged the invisibility cloak over the boy.

"I don't reckon that they will find you until the train's back in London. See you later, Potter...or not."

He walked from the compartment, making sure to tread on the boys fingers as he left.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

Taryn couldn't say what it was that made her stay behind when everyone else exited the train. Perhaps it was premonition, intuition, or the slight feeling of unease that made her stomach feel like she just downed a shot of firewhiskey. Burning and uncomfortable.

Whatever it was, she was glad that she listened. She had sat in her compartment trying to gain the courage to exit. She had been glad that no one else had decided to join her after Draco left, she didn't think that she would have been able to carry on polite, meaningless conversation.

Taryn didn't trust Draco further than she could throw him, and was used to disdainful looks of loathing at best, and outright hostility at worst. He wasn't doing his part, dammit! She sobered, of course he couldn't act accordingly when she wasn't who she was supposed to be, she reminded herself. But, shit, this wasn't according to script. There should have been insults thrown at each other, threats of pain producing spells, maybe a curse word or two. Not..._this._

The heated, obviously interested, glances that he had sent her way had shaken her. And she didn't like the feelings that the glances had produced within her.

Draco had surprisingly developed muscles that had apparently been hidden under his black school robes. They were just right, not huge, but leanly defined. It also seemed that he had dirtied up his style a bit. Instead of the preppy blazer and trousers he usually wore, he had actually been wearing in a pair of dark wash jeans and a black shirt. Of course the black shirt was probably expensive, the jeans custom made to fit his lean hips.

And his eyes. God, his eyes had devoured her, slipping down her frame like a caress. The smirk he threw her had been blatantly sexy. He knew what he was doing, and it pissed her off that she found him appealing. She didn't want to think that he was handsome. Oh she wasn't stupid, she knew that he was attractive, but his attitude had always been able to cloud that fact. Now that he was actually being _pleasant_, it gave a girl time to notice things. There wasn't an attitude buffer when he was smiling at her and flirting with obvious interest.

Taryn was beyond thankful when Pansy came to abduct him, even though the girl had given her a look of death.

Pansy must think that just because _she_ threw her knickers at the boy whenever asked, that any other witch was bound to to the same. The girl was like a dog with a bone. Taryn smiled at the imagery. It perfectly fit the pug faced girl.

She had to admit that the girl had better be on her game if she wanted to keep Draco Malfoy. He certainly wasn't hiding the sexy behind blazers and slacks this year.

Draco was Hogwarts resident Lothario. Even she had heard the rumors of his many conquests. That she had heard them was saying something, as her nose was usually firmly placed within a book. There had been a particularly infamous rumor that had circled the masses at the beginning of their fifth year. Apparently Draco and Alexandria Emery, a seventh year witch, had been caught in a compromising situation involving chocolate syrup. Filch had gotten more than an eyeful that night. Draco had unrepentantly taken his detention with a shit eating grin plastered on his face, his friends congratulating him on bagging an attractive _older_ witch.

Taryn had ducked down when Pansy and the rest of Draco's gang walked past, cursing herself at her cowardice. She was slipping on her school robe when she saw Draco stride past her compartment door, anger sharpening his features. It made her curious. Why hadn't he left with the others? Of course it could be something as simple as forgetting an item, but she didn't believe that it was anything that benign. It was Draco Malfoy after all.

She had waited until he exited the train, watching him joining his friend in one of the carriages. Her mouth dropped open as she noticed what pulled the carriages. Like many Hogwarts students she had believed that the carriages were autonomous, until Harry had told her otherwise. Being an intensely curious witch she had badly wanted to examine them, but she had never been touched by death, and thus unable to see the creatures. That was over. She could clearly make out the leathery winged horses, their large bony bodies covered with a translucent glossy coat. Their dragon like faces and white eyes without pupil, nor iris, were frankly spooky.

With a tinge of sadness, she turned away from the window and left the compartment. Walking slowly down the corridor, she looked for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. She paused in front of what she thought had been Draco's compartment. She couldn't be sure, but the Slytherin students usually took up the rear of the train, so it was a logical assumption. She entered the compartment, finding it empty. Undeterred she walked ahead, her foot finally bumping into something on the floor. Seeing nothing, she reached down, her hand encountering fabric. She pulled away what she now knew was an invisibility cloak and because she knew of no one else with one, she was unsurprised when it revealed Harry Potter.

She was alarmed when she spied the blood smeared across his face. "Finite Incantatem!" She said, watching his body relax, before he pulled himself into a sitting position. She literally had to stop herself from rushing forward to hug him.

He wiped the blood from his face with the back of one sleeve, before raising his eyes to stare into her face. "Who're you?" he slurringly asked, pinching his nose as he rose to his feet.

"Hermi-um, Tracey Davis, but I go by Taryn," she said, hoping his didn't catch her almost slip. She sighed in relief when he said nothing, simply gazing at her, taking in her black robe with its Slytherin emblem.

"Why would a Slytherin take the time to help me?" he asked watching her with obvious distrust.

It hurt her heart to see Harry look at her in such a way. "Just because I'm Slytherin doesn't mean that I'm evil," she said quietly.

Harry's brow rose before he nodded sharply. He looked toward the window, watching steam cloud it as the train began to leave the station. "We are going to have to hurry. As it is, we will probably be jumping to the platform," he said.

After jumping to the platform, they began to walk toward the school. Taryn handed him back the invisibility cloak, and he murmured a quiet thank you.

"So, who did it?" she finally asked after they had been quiet for several moments.

"Your Slytherin Prince of course, Draco Malfoy," he said, acerbity clearly coloring his voice.

Taryn flinched, before she rallied. "I can fix it for you," she said nodding toward his nose.

Harry stopped abruptly, glancing at her with a sharp look. "I don't know if I want you pointing your wand at my face," he said.

Taryn rolled her eyes. "If I meant you harm, then I could have just ended you on the train when you were completely helpless."

It seemed like he didn't like being reminded of the status in which she had found him. He looked at her a moment before he shrugged. "I guess you're right. Okay, have at it."

She pulled her wand out, aiming it at his face. "Episkey."

She watched at he ran his hand over his face gingerly. "It feels better. Thank you," he said grudgingly.

"We had better hurry. I bet they are worried about you by now," Taryn said as they plodded up the dark, deserted lane. Taryn began to appreciate the convenience of the carriages as she fully realized just how far the castle was from the station.

"Why were you still on the train anyway?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"I had to see something, not that it is any of your business," Harry said.

Taryn grimaced. Translation: Harry thought that Malfoy was up to something and had gotten caught. She could read between the lines and she knew her friend.

Taryn was silent, musing. It had just occurred to her that she could do more than watch from the sidelines. She was in the perfect position to get closer to Malfoy and find out if he was truly up to no good. He had already pretty much let it be known that he at least wanted her for one thing, and she might actually let him have it if it got her what she wanted.

It was a bit of a ruthless plan but she wasn't Hermione Granger any longer. At least not the Hermione that she had been, and it was time she started owning that.

In addition, it wasn't like Tracey had been virginal, judging by the unsigned love letters that she had found hidden in the girls closet. She didn't think the girl been a sleaze by any means, but the girl had had one lover at least. After she read the letters she had examined Tracey's memories for who the lover might have been and had immediately been the recipient of some very graphic reminiscences. It had been a slightly older boy with dark hair and warm brown eyes that had made love to the girl on several occasions. She didn't have access to how the relationship had ended, but she clearly had memories of being intimate with the man. It had been an uncomfortable revelation at first, the knowledge of someone else's sexual awakening, while still being virginal in her mind. Now, however, she was grateful. Her plan wouldn't work if she didn't have at least something to work with.

She was removed from her thoughts when they finally reached the gates, but was irritated when they found them locked.

She watched as Harry pulled out his wand, spouting a confident Alohomora.

"That won't work. You do realize that Dumbledore spelled the gates himself?" she asked rhetorically.

Harry glared at her. "Fine, we can just climb the wall."

"No, you can't," Taryn said flatly, "This place is chock full of anti-intruder jinxes. Security has been beefed up considerably this year. Didn't you read your welcome back letter?" she asked in exasperation.

Harry groaned. "Merlin, you sound just like Hermi– ," he stopped abruptly, a look of grief filling his face.

Tears pricked her eyes at the emotion on his face. She wanted to scream that she was right here, but wasn't brave enough to endure the punishment that would follow. "I'm sorry about your friend," she said quietly instead.

"Thanks," he said, running a hand through his unruly hair. Pieces that had previously been semi-tamed now stood up with the rest. "Well, I guess we are spending the night out here," he said in annoyance, changing the subject.

A flash of light caught her eye. "No, here comes someone now," she said.

They watched as the light grew closer, revealing itself to be a lantern. It also revealed that it was carried by none other than Professor Snape, her new head of house.

"Well, well, well," sneered Snape. "Nice of you to turn up Potter, however I didn't think it would be in the company of one of my house members. Miss Davis, can you explain yourself?" He tapped his wand against the padlock and the chains snaked away, the gate opening.

"I forgot something on the train, and I found Potter here under the Petrificus Totalis curse. I thought it prudent to aid him," Taryn said, trying her best to emulate how she thought a Slytherin would speak.

Snape's brow rose before he spoke again. "Well don't just stand there like idiots. Follow me."

The three walked in silence for a moment before Snape spoke. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness," he said before glancing down at Harry's attire. "Another twenty for not having your school robes on, and as much as it pains me, five points from Slytherin for your bad taste in company, Miss Davis."

Taryn watched anger suffuse Harry's face. She didn't care if Snape subtracted a thousand points from Slytherin, but she did mind that Gryffindor and her friend suffered, and that she couldn't do a thing about it.

"I suppose you wanted to make a more memorable entrance?" Snape continued. "And with no flying car at your disposal, you thought that you would burst into the feast to create a dramatic effect?"

Harry remained silent, and Taryn had to bite her lip to do the same. Finally they reached the front steps, the great door opening to reveal the vast entrance hall, voices and laughter drifting from the Great Hall beyond.

Harry took the opportunity to walk away, striding to his house table where he was immediately lost in a crowd of housemates.

"You should find your seat, Miss Davis," Snape said quietly.

Nodding at him, she walked toward the Slytherin table, noting the interested glances. Everyone had seen who she had entered the room with and being Slytherins they were all thinking about how best the incident might serve them.

She sat in the first available seat. Determined to act casually, she reached forward for a glass of pumpkin juice. She forced herself to nibble on a chicken leg, taking small bites to better swallow past the lump in her throat.

She felt a burning gaze trained on her. Lifting her eyes from her plate, she looked around, her gaze settling unerringly on Draco Malfoy.

Taryn watched as Draco looked from Harry at the Gryffindor table, then back to her face. She rose her brow at him, daring him to question her.

She was surprised when he merely smirked at her. It pissed her off, and she was determined to wipe the smirk from his face.

Accessing all the Cosmopolitan articles she had secretly read, she locked eyes with his, before lowering her lashes and glancing down slightly to her left. Raising her hand, she slowly pushed back her hair, before glancing back at him. He was staring at her as she grazed her bottom lip with her teeth, before smiling at him.

His eyes widened a bit, before darkening, at her blatant invitation. Taryn felt a blush rush to her cheeks at his intense look.

She lowered her head, letting her hair cover her face. Hook, line, sinker, she thought. Her plan to seduce Draco Malfoy had just started. Soon she would have him exactly where she wanted, complacent and hopefully whipped. All the better for her to spy, and secretly send her findings to Harry.

She didn't realize how in over her head she was. She also didn't notice that she had waved the red flag at the bull, so to speak. The bull being one Pansy Parkinson.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Draco watched as the team of elves finished bringing in his luggage.

"Just set them by the door. I can unpack myself," he said, watching as they visibly wilted. House-elves did love to be useful, and he had just denied them one of their chief pleasures.

"Is sir sure?" a particularly small female elf asked. She had large brown eyes and a tiny pillbox hat placed on her head at a jaunty angle. The hat managed to match her yellow tea towel perfectly.

"Yes, I believe I can manage," Draco said impatiently. He wanted them gone so he could have time to himself finally. As much as he played the part of the braggart, the true Draco often needed time to himself to recharge his batteries. It had been a strain, even more so than usual but he had played his part perfectly, and now he was ready to relax the act. He also had several things to think about, and plan, and he didn't need any more interruptions.

He was glad that he had opted to lease a private room for the school year. It would be essential in maintaining the secrecy of his task. Private rooms in Slytherin house were only extended to sixth and seventh year students. That is if they had the coin to afford the privilege. There were four private rooms in total, and they went to the highest bidder. Some former, enterprising Slytherin head of house, Draco didn't trouble himself to find out how long ago, had realized an opportunity when he saw one.

The Hogwarts dungeons were vast, and because of this Slytherin House actually had the largest lodgings in the castle. They had all of the same rooms that the other houses had like the common room, boys and girls wings, and prefect quarters, but Slytherin House was in a class of its own. There was also a library, several different types of fitness rooms, a music room with a piano, two additional common rooms, and even a kitchen that was only rarely used. Many a Slytherin had held back a condescending laugh when they were pitied for living in the Hogwarts Dungeons. Snape was also known to turn a blind eye to co-ed shared rooms if it would benefit himself, either financially or otherwise, as long as the lease holder was discreet in his activities.

The private rooms were in a wing of their own, nicknamed Serpent Hall. The hall had its own common room that could only be used by the current lease holders and whatever guest that they deemed worthy of a visit.

The private rooms were actually more like tiny flats. Each had a small living area with stairs that lead to the bedroom, a fully functional kitchenette, and a bathroom with an adjoining loo. There were no actual windows of course, since they were located in the dungeons after all, instead the rooms boasted artificial windows charmed to display whichever view the boarder wanted to see. The rooms were all blank canvases so to speak. Each had typical the stone walls and basic furniture. The walls were charmed to change color to whatever the lease holder wanted. The lease holder could also bring items, as long as they took said items home at the end of the year. In addition to the leasing fee a security deposit was required in case of damage. Professor Snape made a tidy sum just from leasing the four rooms every year.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Draco said, pointing his wand toward his trunks. The luggage obediently followed him upstairs to his bedroom. The room was decently sized, though in no way as large as his room at home. He pointed his wand at the trunks once more, and they settled gently to the ground. Items began to remove themselves, some folding neatly before settling into one of the drawers, or floating to the open closet door. It was going to be nice not having to live out of his trunks for a change.

The bed, he was glad to note, wasn't a large four poster. It was a king size platform bed, done in a rich mahogany tone that matched the set of drawers. There was a nice pillow top mattress just waiting to be made.

Draco half wished that he had allowed the elves to make the bed and do the moving chores for him, but he valued his privacy much more.

After his clothes were stored, he made his bed, with thousand count Egyptian sheets in a medium blue, over which he placed a charcoal toned goose down comforter. Draco didn't spare any expense on his bed. He figured since a person spent roughly a third of their life sleeping, well, it made sense to make it a luxury. Also he didn't plan to be alone in it every night if he had anything to say about it.

He pulled the small box containing his Room of Requirement from his trunk, enlarging the door before attaching it to his bedroom wall. He would take the time later to explore its capabilities.

Downstairs, he opened a box from his mother. Inside were things he wouldn't have thought himself to buy. There were coffee cups, plates, saucers, glasses, tableware, pots, pans, a teakettle, dishtowels, and an oven mitt. She had also included dish soap and a dish drain.

There was a note nestled in the side of the box. He unfolded the note to find his mother's distinct flowing script.

_Draco, _

_Since you wouldn't agree to my sending you a personal house elf to see to your needs while at school, I have included everything that I think that you will need to start the year. Please let me know If I have forgotten anything. I have arranged for groceries to be delivered at the first of each week. You need only let the grocers know if there is something more or different that you desire, but I believe that all of the basics should already be in your pantry. _

_Please take care of yourself, my son, and write often. _

_Love, _

_Mother_

"How much cooking does she think I'm going to be doing?" he asked out loud. He couldn't remember a time that his mother had made anything herself other than tea. Narcissa Malfoy let her house-elves do the cooking and cleaning around Malfoy Manor, even if she had wanted to the house was far too large.

Walking to the pantry he found it stocked with many different food items, and in the refrigerator were perishable items. He was glad that his mother had thought ahead. Now he didn't even have to worry about grocery shopping.

That was something that people didn't understand about his mother. They saw her cool beauty, and rigid manner and thought that she was immediately a stuck up cold person. Though she could be that person to some degree, those people weren't allowed the privilege of seeing her caring, thoughtful side. Even though they did have servants and the like, Narcissa had always been a true mother. Kissing his scrapes and telling him fantastical stories that had him starry eyed with wonder. It was only in the presence of his father, or visitors, that the blank society mask returned.

Shaking off his musings, he turned his mind toward décor, deciding not to do much to the room other than tenting the walls a calming blue tone.

He took a shower, then sat on his sofa in front of a crackling fire. His mind wandered back to his encounter with Taryn Davis.

The girl was the poster child for mixed signals. The encounter on the train wasn't the first time they had ever spoke, but it was the first time a conversation with the witch had ever stuck with him. The Tracey Davis he remembered, while pretty, was nothing to run and tell anyone about. She had always been rather quiet, keeping to herself, content to stay on the fringes of Pansy's group. He figured the only reason that she had even been allowed there was because she happened to room with Pansy.

Pansy was actually far more the snob than Draco had ever pretended to be. She only befriended anyone less than pureblood if it was going to suit her in some way. Everyone knew that Taryn's father was loaded, he even put the Malfoy fortune to shame. The fact that he had so much money, well it opened doors that would have remained closed to the half-blood otherwise.

Draco didn't know what was drawing him to Taryn now, but the witch definitely had his attention after that display in the Great Hall. He had wanted to stride down the table toward her, knock the dishes aside and spread her on the conveniently emptied space. Judging from the hot looks she had been sending him, she didn't seem adverse to the idea. He would have to make sure that she knew the score.

Draco didn't do girlfriends. To put it bluntly, he had fuck buddies. Pansy was actually the only girl that he had been with for any length of time. It was probably her proximity. Their fathers were great friends and Draco and Pansy had practically grown up together. They had even lost their virginity together when they were fourteen, at least Pansy was under the impression that he had lost _his_ to her as well.

Pansy was good in the sack, but she wanted more that he was willing to give. If it were up to her they would be engaged and married directly after graduation. He would shit bricks before that happened. He knew Pansy. He didn't kid himself believing that she wanted him for himself. No, Pansy could get more turned on at the thought of becoming a Malfoy than for a good shag. Not that she didn't enjoy a good shag as well, but with Pansy it all had strings.

He had broke it off with her after she started talking marriage around his fifteenth birthday. She had hounded him for months afterward trying to get back together, finally retreating in a sulk after he shagged Alexandria Emery. Many a wizard had wanted Alexandria, and he had been frankly flattered that she had looked at him, sending him sultry glances for weeks before leading him to an empty classroom. Draco never thought of chocolate syrup the same way afterward.

Alexandria had seemingly lost her hair shortly thereafter. Draco knew that Pansy had had a hand in it, and frankly it both amused and pissed him off. Amusement at her audacity, and anger at the thought of her scaring away a willing witch. She seemed to think that he was her property.

It didn't help that he sometimes took her up on a shag if he felt the need and she was handy. Every time they had sex she thought that they were back on track, and of course, was disappointed when it didn't happen. He didn't feel sorry for the witch. He had been straight with her. He told her that he didn't want a relationship and that it was strictly casual.

Besides, Pansy had her own share of lovers, and was never too long without a replacement. The real problem was that she didn't want _him_ to have a replacement. He both hated and valued the sentiment. If he was being honest, it probably kept many of the other girls from getting marriage ideas as well. It was well known that Pansy was very vindictive when she thought someone was infringing on her territory.

Perhaps that was why Taryn had never shown an interest in him before. She was a good looking girl, and he wouldn't have turned her down for a shag if offered. He hadn't tried, mostly because he didn't want the hassle and also because she had always seemed kind of...well...meek. Not that the had spent time exchanging much beyond pleasantries with the girl, but now she was different.

What puzzled him most was Taryn's complete turnaround from her earlier attitude. The looks she had sent him were pretty fucking sexy, but Draco was leery of the quick about face. She was attracted to him, he knew, but he had thought that a bit of seduction was in order. It seemed that the witch wanted to be the seducer, and the Slytherin in him was fully amenable to taking advantage of the situation. He'd let her think that she was in control, while in actuality he was the one pulling all of the strings. While he did have an important task to complete for Voldemort, he was still a sixteen year old boy. If Taryn was going to throw it his way, well then, he was going to take it.

* * *

The alarm he had set on his wand woke him at three in the morning, accompanied by the artificial sun lightening his windows.

Draco had always had trouble rising in the morning, but he wasn't going to let himself get out of shape, even though he didn't know when he would have the time for his next fight.

Exercise in the morning really started his day. He didn't feel entirely awake if he skipped his workout, even though he would have to go through a slightly different routine here than the one he maintained at home. While residing at the Manor, it was easy to slip away to the gym to get in his workout. Here he would have to go about it differently.

He felt better and better about his decision to get a solo room. Now he didn't have to make excuses for how early he woke in the morning to grumpy roommates and he could amp his workout to the level that he was used to working.

He stumbled into his bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth before slipping into a pair of black gym shorts and a gray ribbed tank. Downstairs he made himself a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and a protein powder that didn't taste too bad, alternating sips of orange juice between bites of oatmeal.

He took the time to wash his dish. He would be cleaning after himself. He had already arranged the house elves to only come to his room to pick up his laundry bags on Friday mornings. They were told to only get the laundry, and not to touch anything else in the room.

Walking back toward the attached door he stepped inside and was immediately impressed.

The room was huge. He figured he could run his own damn MMA classes out of the room if he wanted.

The floor was covered in dark blue high density padding and clearly marked sparring areas. There were several heavy bags and one corner was obviously dedicated to weight training. The walls were painted a pale beige color and one wall was completely mirrored. The air even smelled clean and fresh, almost as if there were opened windows in the room.

"There is even a bloody treadmill," Draco muttered to himself in amazement.

He went through a series of warm ups before moving on to a sparring partner that the room provided, landing punishing strikes to the figure he had decided to call Mort. It was odd how much the figure looked and felt like a real person. The thing actually seemed to breathe and sweat. Only the eyes told the tale. They were completely blank, and slightly creepy, so Draco didn't feel bad at all for kicking the shit out of Mort. He made a mental note to himself to raise Mort's difficulty level, because while it was nice having a sparring partner, if Mort didn't give him a challenge then it wasn't a workout. At home he usually worked out at least four hours a day, but at school it was harder. He did two hours before class and two hours before bed if he had the time after finishing his schoolwork.

He had to maintain control over at least this tiny aspect of his life. So much else was being decided for him, he felt like training and keeping his body in peak condition was his calm in the storm.

It seemed that with the Dark Lord's return the time of relative tranquility within the Malfoy home was gone. Following the Dark Lord had changed his Lucius. He had never been an extremely demonstrative man, but even the little shows of appreciation had disappeared behind a polite mask.

Now that he had taken the mark, Draco knew that that mask could hide a wealth of seething emotion.

The only other thing that calmed him, well, that was going to take some delicate maneuvering. His next conquest lived with his ex. It would make for some interesting situations, he predicted.

After his workout he had just enough time to shower, dress, and gather his books for class.

* * *

Draco's road to MMA was a strange one. Lucius had had his only son in sports starting at the age of five. Draco had been involved in wrestling, fencing, horseback riding, and later boxing. He hadn't minded. Draco had always been athletic, the kind of child that played outside until forced inside by his mother at the end of the day. Also it had been some of the only times that he was able to spend with his father. Lucius had always been involved as well, watching him carefully for progression, at least until Draco's second year of Hogwarts. By then Lucius had been embroiled in various plots to bring back the Dark Lord, and the time they spent together grew less and less.

He had never understood why his father had insisted on such physical pursuits. Perhaps it was because Draco had always been a little high strung. Physical activity had always channeled his excess energy and brought him peace. He figured that was why he was a natural at mixed martial arts. The sheer physicality appealed to him at an intrinsic level. He didn't know what it said about himself that pounding a blokes face in had a calming affect on his psyche.

Draco had met Jeff Leonard quite by accident. He had slipped away from a stupid charity event that his mother and father patronized, and insisted that he attend. He hated society events. They were all see and be seen. Who is married to whom? Who is cheating on their spouse? Whose child is the most accomplished? That last bit always angered him. No matter what he did or how hard he tried he could never please his father. It got to the point where he wanted to stop trying, but he could never bring himself completely there. Lucius was his father after all, and it had been ingrained in him from birth to strive to uphold the Malfoy name, but the pressure at times was immense.

He had slipped out of a side door, boldly striding through the street, ignoring the occasional curious glance. Once out of the wizarding district, he threw his dress robes into a dumpster, grateful for the dark trousers and shirt he wore beneath.

He had wondered the streets for hours, and if anyone thought it odd to see a thirteen year old boy walking alone at such a late hour, his angry eyes warned them away.

It was on a street of warehouses where he discovered his home away from home.

He watched as an exceedingly long line of people moved steadily through a large pair of metal doors, a few grumpy people being turned away. It was strange, to him, the groupings of people. There were women dressed in elegant, and sometimes shockingly revealing dresses, escorted by men in sharp suits. At odds with this dress code were the men dressed in sweats and gym gear. Those men varied in size, but each one looked just as deadly as the one behind him.

Draco was already tall for his age, though still obviously young, joined the end of the line, ignoring the amused looks sent his way. He patiently waited, his curiosity getting the better of him. He knew that this was some kind of fight club. The cauliflower ears and busted noses on some of the men attested to the fact. He had to get inside.

When he reached the doorway, he tried to slip past the bouncer, but was stopped by a meaty paw on his shoulder.

"This ain't no romper room kid. Get outta here," a gruff, American accented voice said. Draco looked up into the eyes of the biggest man, other than Hagrid, that he had ever seen. And the bloke was a Muggle! His face looked like it was made of stone, but he had keen looking brown eyes under a heavy brow. His ears were huge, the cauliflower ears changing the shape considerably.

"Good, because that would bore me," Draco said in reply, pushing bravado into his voice. This man had nothing on Lucius, who dealt it out like mother's milk, in the intimidation department.

The man, Jeff, looked at him a moment before bursting into laughter. "You're funny kid, but this ain't no place for children," he said wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "You got a lot of balls to showing up, but you'll need more than that to make it around here."

Draco pulled out his wallet, thankful that his mother made sure that he always had both Muggle and wizard funds. He pulled out five hundred pound notes from a thick wad. "How much is it going to cost me to get in?" he asked.

Jeff whistled. "Damn, kid, don't you know better than flashing blunt like that around here? You're gonna get yourself mugged, or worse. Good you came to my place. Hey Rico!" he yelled into the doorway, "Get your ass out here and watch the door! I got some shit to take care of."

"Damn, man, I'm coming. Keep your fucking pants on!" a deeply accented voice said. Draco was surprised to see that the voice belonged to a small Latino boy, about a few years older than he was. That was were the similarities ended.

Ricardo "Rico" Kovalic was the product of a multiracial Brazilian mother and a half Russian half Asian father. It had given the kid an almost pretty look, something Draco could unfortunately identify with. Rico had thick curly dark hair, golden toned skin, and large thickly lashed brown eyes that seemed to draw you in. Draw you in just close enough for him to kick your ass that is. He knew that his features were delicate, only his musculature keeping from an effeminate look. That fact had caused him to demonstrate more than once just how deadly he could be.

Rico had grown up poor in the one of slums of Rio, his mother giving birth to him at only fourteen years old. A teenage mother with no drive and precious little common sense, his mother had lost herself in misery after his father left her, cocaine her only solace. The prostitution that she used to buy her drug of choice only seemed to push her deeper into her self-made abyss, and she had neglected her only child often.

One day when he was just seven years old, his mother never returned home. By then he was used to her many absences and it was days before he began to worry. It was only after he discovered her small bundle of clothes missing that he realized that he would probably never see his mother again. After the small bit of money that she left folded under the sugar bowl had dried up, Rico was forced to leave the little shack he called home. He had wondered the streets for days, dodging the pimps that wanted to use him for his pretty face.

It was sheer luck, or hunger rather, that drove him to steal from a small home. He had his ass handed to him by the grandson of the owner of the home. Matheus Brito had taken pity on the small child, feeding him and eventually adopting him and training him in Brazilian Jiujitsu and Judo alongside his own grandson Leo.

Leo and Rico had been like brothers, Leo being one year older. When Matheus died when they were eleven and twelve respectively, the boys had tried to keep up with the finances around the home, but Rico again found himself homeless. Tragedy joined homelessness when Leo died a year later. It was a gunshot wound to the head that had taken his brother from him. Leo had been desperate to take care of both himself and his brother. He had known that they would most likely be separated if they went into Child Protective Services, so he had reluctantly joined one of the many gangs that riddled the area. He had been shot to death within a month of joining.

Rico had spent the next two or so years working one hustle after another to gain money. He had resisted joining one of the gangs and as a result had to move often to keep from being killed in retaliation for infringing on someone's territory. Finally he decided to use what he had learned, earning money and gaining underground fame fighting bouts against much older fighters. He had always had an edge because fighting to him meant survival not just money in his pocket.

Eventually he made his way out of Brazil and all the way to London, where he found himself working as an quasi assistant to Jeff Leonard.

It amused Jeff that such a delicately featured boy was such a fucking savage when it came to fighting. Maybe that was why he gave Draco a chance that day. He saw that same spirit in the kid's grey eyes.

"What the fuck is this?" Rico said eying Draco. "You gonna let this little kid in here?"

"I'm not a kid," Draco said angrily, "Besides, how can you fucking talk? What are you like fifteen?"

Rico looked into the air to his left and drew in a breath before smiling a truly chilling smile at Draco. "Jeff, this kid your friend or what? Tell me now, because one word otherwise and I'm going to fuck him up," Rico said quietly, his tone now different from if he was talking about the weather.

"Don't lose your shit Rico. I gave you a chance. This kid deserves one too if I wanna fucking give it to him," Jeff said.

Rico looked at Jeff for a moment, giving a sharp nod, before turning back to Draco. Turning back quickly, he lunged at Draco, stopping himself short before actually touching the other boy. He was disappointed when Draco didn't even flinch.

"Ahahaha," Jeff laughed, "See? The kid's got more spirit than you think. Just man the door for a bit, and I'll send out Rob to relieve you," he said.

Rico glared at Draco. " Just stay out of my way Cabrao," he said before turning and striding to the doors.

Draco's eyes narrowed. He knew that Rico had just called him something very unpleasant. "What did he call me?" he hissed as Jeff steered him away from the door.

"Don't mind Rico, he's the least of your worries kid. By the way, what's your name?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Ryu," he said quietly. It was true enough. Draco meant dragon and so did Ryu.

Jeff's brow rose. The kid looked more like a Dexter or some other pretentious sounding name. He shrugged. "Okay, Ryu. This is Stygian Gym. We train in mixed martial arts including, but not limited to, jiujitsu, kickboxing, wrestling, muay thai, taekwondo, judo, and anything else I feel like throwing in. I own this shit, but I don't teach every class. The little savage at the door teaches Brazilian jiujitsu to some of the beginners."

That asshole actually taught people? Draco was astonished. He didn't think he had met anyone less likely to be anyone's mentor.

Jeff laughed at Draco's expression. "He ain't that bad. He is just prickly. Anyway, going on," he said showing Draco several workout rooms, stopping in one to tell an equally beefy man, who Draco assumed to be Rob to go man the doors. He finally lead him to a large room that was quickly filling with observers. At the center of the room was an octagon like cage. It was obviously the "ring" where the matches were conducted.

The lights in the large room were slightly dim, making the vivid light on the cage even more arresting.

The mat was a lemon yellow color with Stygian Gym in stark black lettering printed across. The walls were painted black, adding a bit of mystery and danger. You couldn't see exactly every detail, and while that made Draco nervous, he wasn't nervous enough to leave.

The cage was actually lower than the circular wooden bleachers surrounding it. People in finery and street clothes alike, sat elbow to elbow, prejudices temporarily abandoned in for the frenzy of the upcoming bout.

There were people working the crowd, selling drinks and snacks. Money was everywhere, being exchanged for goods and turned in for bets.

"While we do teach and train here," Jeff continued, "this is where my fighter's make a lot of their money. This isn't sanctioned and definitely not legal, but people pay to attend and the fighter's can make a lot of money pretty quick. It ain't legal, but I make sure all the fighters that come in here get tested for blood borne shit, because there's gonna be bloodshed. Hell, I'm in here too, and I'm sure as fuck not getting anything from one of these bastards. Anyway, my club and a bunch of others around the city pit our best fighter's against each other in a competition that we call The Circuit. Every fighter that enters the cage gets paid a flat rate, but the winner gets double. We go by weight class usually, but if a fighter thinks that he can go up, well then we leave that decision to him, but usually only the wannabe's go out of class. Some of my fighters go on to legit careers, and some just stay here. Blue collar and white collar by day, and brawler by night," Jeff said on a chuckle.

Draco wanted badly to join, right at that moment. "How much to join?" he asked. As with most wealthy people, he assumed that the right price would get him instant entrance.

"Slow down kid," Jeff said, "Have a seat and watch a fight before you decide."

Jeff had already decided to let the kid join if he still wanted to after he saw his first bout. He saw something of himself in the kid. Despite his expensive clothes, the kid was lost. You could clearly see the emotion in the kid's grey eyes. Besides, people usually had one of two reactions after seeing a real Stygian bout. They either pissed/puked/fainted before running out of the gym never to be seen again. Or, more rarely, the fight kindled within them a fierce need to compete, to push themselves to their limit, to the realization that this was exactly what they were born to do. If the kid was one of the latter, well Jeff would let him try it out.

Draco nodded, finding a seat in the third row from the bottom. He settled down, ignoring the heat that was accumulating from all the bodies entering the room. He was almost vibrating with excitement as he watched two men walk into the room and enter the cage. They were both huge, definitely heavyweights. One was a dark Black man with dreads drawn into a low ponytail wearing blue shorts. The other was a White man, his brown hair slicked into a wickedly pointed Mohawk, was wearing yellow shorts with a black stripe going down the sides.

The White man looked a little older, more rugged, possibly in his mid thirties. The Black man was perhaps in his early twenties, and still baby faced. They both bounced on the balls of their feet, before each going to an opposite corner of the cage.

Jeff strode out of the room returning with a smaller man, wearing a suit. He handed the man a strange Muggle device. Draco didn't know then that it was a microphone.

The man in the suit, who had an amazingly Weasley-like shock of ginger hair, strode into the cage, stopping directly in the center. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Circuit's light heavyweight championship bout. My name is Scott Field and I'll be your announcer and commentator this evening. The doors have been closed. You know the rules, if you leave you're not getting back in again, so get cozy. Our referee tonight is Jared Markham," he said nodding to a wiry Indian man who had just entered the cage. "This bout will consist of five five minute rounds. The usual rules apply. Now, in the red corner, wearing blue shorts is the challenger Jake Morgan. Jake is a twenty-three year old Brazilian jiujitsu and kickboxing practitioner, standing at 6'5" and 14.5 stone. He is represented by Impact Gym."

Jake stood, flexing his muscles a calm look of determination on his face.

"In the blue corner we have our current Light Heavyweight Champion Willy Brock. Willy is a thirty-one year old wrestling, kickboxing, and judo practitioner. He stands and 6'3", weighing in at 14.6 stone, represented by Stygian Club," Scott finished, leaving the cage to sit with three other men at a nearby table.

The crowd at gone steadily louder and Draco couldn't make out what the referee said as he and the fighters made their way to the center of the cage. He leaned forward as the watched the fighters begin to circle each other.

"Just watch the fight kid, and listen to the commentator," Jeff said as he slid onto the bench beside Draco.

His hands on his knees, he watched avidly as the fighters traded blows.

Jeff watched, not the fight, but the boy as the fight played out. Even when Jake's elbow opened a cut on Willy's face, the boy didn't flinch, his gaze engrossed on the fight. His attention only left the cage when the scantily clad ring card girl worked the crowd, her metallic silver bikini barely covering the only the important bits.

The fight when on and on, and finally Jake, in a surprising move, was able to get Willy pinned next to the fence, his fist bringing down punishing the blows that ended the bout in a knockout.

Draco was forced to stand as the crowd began to disperse. He followed Jeff to the side of the room.

"Wait here kid, I'll be back in a second. Don't move," Jeff said motioning Draco to a seat against the wall. It seemed that most of the spectators were either getting cashing in their bets, or trying to get closer to the fighters for an autograph or a word or two.

Draco leaned his head back against the wall. That had been the most exhilarating thing that he had ever seen in his life. The excitement that thrummed through his veins was heady, far more than when he dueled with wands, and it didn't have the sense of requirement that always accompanied the sports that his father expected of him. This was more...primal. Competition at is most basic level. Man pitted against man, one being forced to submit under another superior fighter. The control aspect, for Draco who had very little control over his own life, certainly appealed.

"You seem a little out of your element," a soft feminine voice said, breaking him out of his reverie.

Draco stiffened, turning his grey gaze to the left. It was the ring card girl in all her eye catching glory, her long curling black hair reaching her waist, large brown eyes trained on him. She pulled a pair of wire framed glasses from the wristlet on her arm, perching them on her nose. She went immediately from sexy bikini girl to sexy bikini/perhaps sexy librarian girl.

Draco swallowed, staring. He didn't see many women so, well, revealed. He wondered why she was talking to him.

He goggled at her for a full minute, blushing under the smile that appeared on her face. "I'm Dra—Er, Ryu," he finally said, cursing himself at his lameness. He made the conscious effort to keep his eyes on her face, and from sliding down her body. Being that he was only thirteen, he failed of course, but was grateful when she was polite enough to ignore it.

"Hi, Ryu. I'm Stephanie," she said shaking his hand. "You mind if I wait here with you? My boyfriend is otherwise occupied," she said nodding toward Willy Brock, who was getting tended by a medic.

"Not at all," Draco said, the manners his mother had forced him to learn finally kicking in.

Stephanie sat in the chair next to him. She pulled a tie from her wristlet, securing her hair into a messy ponytail.

"You date Mr. Brock? He won't mind you talking to me?" Draco asked, curiously. She seemed a lot younger than the man, but older than he was, about eighteen or nineteen he would guess. He didn't want any shit with the huge man, who even if he had just lost his title, could render him into a pile of mush on the floor

"Mr. Brock?" Stephanie asked giggling, "No, he is really a big teddy bear, and I doubt that he would mind me talking with you," she said her tone clearly stating that a boy Draco's age wouldn't inspire jealousy.

Draco bristled. He _knew_ he was younger, but after that comment he couldn't even _pretend_ that the girl would be interested, and he doubted that Willy Brock was a teddy bear. He'd never seen a teddy bear throw vicious strikes like that.

Stephanie touched his shoulder gently. "Oh, hon, I didn't mean it like that. I bet in a few years you will be breaking hearts left and right. You are a handsome boy, er, guy. What are you doing here anyway?"

Draco was slightly mollified at her compliment. "I'm going to join Stygian," Draco said determinedly.

Stephanie's brow rose in disbelief. She hadn't known Jeff to let anyone younger than Rico join, and that had only been because Rico didn't have many people that were equal to him in technique. Jeff must have a soft spot for the kid. "You sure, Ryu? This place isn't a walk in the park."

"You don't think I can do it?" Draco asked in irritation.

"No, that's not it. I just have a brother about your age, and well, I would want someone to talk to him if he was going to be at a place like this," Stephanie said in concern.

"You're here," Draco said in retort.

"Yeah I know. This is paying for uni for me. It beats working as a waitress or at a fast food place, and Willy is here," Stephanie said, shrugging.

"What are going to school for?" Draco asked.

"Well, contrary to what my attire might suggest, I'm actually majoring in business. Willy and I eventually want to open our own gym. He is going to train fighters and I'll handle the business end."

"That sounds like a good plan," Draco said. "I hope it happens for you."

"Thanks, sugar," she said standing, "Well it looks like Willy is about finished up. You wanna meet him or something?"

"Really?" Draco said, excitement coloring his voice.

"Sure," she said as Willy walked up to them. His face was swollen like a pumpkin, but still he leaned down kissing Stephanie softly on her temple, before twining one brawny arm around her waist, bringing her closer.

"Hey, sweetie, this is Ryu. He is thinking about joining Stygian," Stephanie said.

Willy looked down at Draco in consideration. "You think you got what it takes?" he said, his voice a low American drawl.

"I do, sir." Draco said decisively.

Willy nodded. The kid had spirit at least. "This isn't just girls, money, and glory, man. You are gonna get hit, and its gonna fucking hurt. Days like today happen. You get your ass handed to you. You leave the cage the loser and losing feels like sucking a thousand dicks with your mom watching. Think you can handle that? Or the dedication that its gonna take? I teach here too, and if you end up in my class half assed shit won't cut it."

Draco cut a look at Stephanie, wondering if she minded Willy's crude analogy. She just shrugged, obviously used to his colorful language. Draco felt that he had better get used to the language if he was going to join the sport. "I'll give it all I have. Failure is something that I know about, but I've never let it stop me before. If I get to train here, and hopefully with you sir, then I'll give it my best. I'll put in the time, whatever it takes."

"You'll do," Willy said slapping him on the back, and almost knocking him off of his feet. "You have some growing to do though. You will definitely get it here. If Jeff approves you, then I better see you in my class," he said, slinging an arm over Stephanie's shoulder, and walking away.

"See you around, Ryu," Stephanie called behind.

"Come on kid," Jeff said coming up behind him. "We'll go to my office and you can tell me why I should let you train here."

Draco followed Jeff to his office, which turned out to be not much more than a tiny closet with just enough room for a metal desk, office chair, file cabinet, and one chair in front of said desk. Jeff motioned him into the chair facing the desk.

Jeff sat down, leaning back in the chair, and slamming his booted feet on the desk. "So, why should you be here. You'd be the youngest to ever get in. Even Rico is fifteen, going on sixteen. Why should I take a chance on you?"

"I'll dedicate myself to training, and well, this might sound weird but I just feel comfortable here. I have a lot of useless shit in my life, and this would be the only thing that I ever really wanted, that I could choose for myself," Draco said, desperation in his voice. He had to get in. He just had to.

"This place ain't cheap kid. We put out the best fighters, despite the loss you saw tonight. A lot of guys have been waiting for months just to train here. If I let you in you're gonna get a lot of shit from the other guys. You're gonna have to train with older, experienced, bigger guys," Jeff said, laying it all down for the boy.

"Money isn't a problem. As far as the other guys, I can take it. Just please, please, give me a chance."

Jeff frowned. "I should probably be shot for this, but okay. I need a grand upfront as a down payment when you come for your first day. Non-refundable, even if you pussy out later."

"Fine. When can I start?" Draco asked.

Damn, the kid had a one track mind. "Monday. I don't think the schools are in session yet, so I want you here at eight at the latest, Monday through Thursday," he watched Draco's brow crinkle. "Is that gonna be a problem kid?"

It was going to take some creative maneuvering to get out of breakfast with his mother. Lucius was usually at the office by then, but Narcissa liked to take breakfast with her only child one the days that she wasn't involved with some sort of function. At least he had a week to come up with an excuse. "No, but I go to, erm, boarding school from September to June. I get out on Easter and Christmas hols."

Jeff's brow rose. Rich kid, he thought. "That's on you kid. You are going to have to be the one to find ways to train outside of the club, and believe me you'll make sure that you do if you want to get any kind of skill in this sport. Either way, you still have to pay club dues to keep your membership."

"So, I'm in?" Draco asked grinning.

"Yeah, you are in kid," Jeff sighed.

"Yeah!" Draco whooped.

"Just be here Monday. With money," Jeff added.

Draco nodded, before standing up to leave the room. He hurried out of the club, ducking into a nearby ally to Apparate back to his parents event. He had thought that he was going to have to explain his absence, but they hadn't even noticed him being gone in the crush of the crowd!

…

Draco used all of his Slytherin cunning in arranging to be able to attend his training sessions. His mother was under the impression that he was in an amateur rugby league with Crabble and Goyle. Of course, he didn't actually tell Crabble and Goyle where he was really going. The two barely had a brain cell in between them, and he couldn't chance them letting any details slip. Instead he just threatened them with exposure of some of their own escapades.

He had had a moment of panic, and thought that the ruse would be discovered when his mother questioned the cost of the "rugby" club dues.

"Its helps to maintain the grounds and such mother," he had said.

"Maybe I should go and visit with the coach. It would settle my mind to have a chat with him," Narcissa had said.

Draco had nearly swallowed his tongue. "Mother, you can't do that. You will make me look like a little kid. Nobody else is going to have their mother wandering around. They'll laugh at me!" He pushed a bit of whine into his voice.

Narcissa had sighed indulgently. Her little boy was growing up so fast. "Okay, fine. I won't come and visit, but If I see anything out of the ordinary you won't be playing for long," she said, settling the manner.

Relief had made Draco nearly boneless. How very close his dream had been to ending, and not even before it had properly began.

...

He spent his entire Saturday before training scouring Muggle shops for all the items on the list of equipment that he would need for training. Since he didn't know if wizard shops carried all of the items he needed, and he didn't want the purchases to be traced back to him, a trip to London had definitely been in order.

This would be the first time that he had attempted such an involved endeavor without magic. The trip, that would have taken a Muggle perhaps an hour or two, took him an entire day to achieve.

He had been confused as to where to begin his search. Finally it clicked to try the phone books to find an address, but it had taken an embarrassingly long time for him to think of the solution, and he was glad that he was doing the searching solo.

He finally found a large shop called Thompson Sport Wear. A nice worker had noted his confusion and helped him to find all the items he needed. By the time he left the shop, Draco owned three different sets of black gloves, a jock strap, mouthpiece, rash guard and leggings, and knee pads, and five sets of black shorts. He wasn't sure he needed all of the items, but the man had insisted.

After buying his sportswear he went to a huge Muggle store called Harrods. He didn't want to show up at the gym again in expensive clothes, and the only alternative he owned were wizard robes. He needed ordinary Muggle items to better preserve his persona. He loaded up on tee-shirts, jeans, a couple pairs of black converse and a few packs of boxers. He also threw in a couple of black hoodies and a black stocking cap, all the better for covering his pale hair when he stuck out.

Since the place seemed a bit higher end than the first Muggle store he visited, Asda, he decided to also throw in a few more quality items. He didn't realize that he was unconsciously gravitating away from the "style" his mother had instilled in him. The leather jacket and graphic tees in his cart were in stark contrast to the cashmere sweaters, silk shirts, and tailored trousers that his mother insisted that he wear. He stored it all in a large duffel that he had bought in Thompson's. He knew of course that he would only be able to wear the clothes whenever he wasn't under his parents watchful eye.

With Jujube's help he smuggled all the items into his room. All Saturday night and the following Sunday, he had to make a conscious effort to stifle his excitement.

Monday morning he was awake at five am, and dressed and on his way to the gym by six-thirty. He poured over Apparition maps to find the quickest route to the gym. He didn't actually have his Apparition license, being too young for qualification, but he had been able to Apparate since the age of ten. It had been something his parents had made him keep a secret, and not do unless of emergency. Being a Malfoy, and a Slytherin, he had promised to their face and secretly continued to do so.

Arriving at the gym, he rapped on the peeling red door at the rear, waiting for several minutes before the door swung open.

He had expected Jeff, but was unpleasantly surprised that Rico opened the door. With a sigh the older boy let him in the building.

"I can't believe he actually let you in," Rico grumbled.

"Why are you here so early? Don't you have somewhere to go?" Draco said in retort.

"Vai Se Foder, I live here. Above the gym," he said nodding his head toward a staircase set off to the left of the rear entrance.

"You live here? Don't you have parents?" Draco asked, instinctively knowing exactly what to say to piss the guy off.

He found himself slammed against the wall, looking down at the slightly shorter boy.

"That is your one time, cuzao. Nobody talks about my parents," Rico said, angrily.

"Eh, now! Cool it, Rico. I need you to keep your head," Jeff said coming up swiftly behind them.

Draco pushed down his fear, refusing to break his gaze first.

"Once he apologizes," Rico said.

"I don't even know what the fuck I'm apologizing for! Even if I did, I don't think I'd want to give you the satisfaction," Draco hissed.

Jeff pulled them apart. "You know what, Kovalic? You just found your next mentoring gig."

Jeff had never seen anyone affect the older boy in such a way. He figured that this would be the best way for the boys to work past their problem.

Rico whipped around. "What! I don't have time to teach this little pussy anything! I bet he can't even throw a punch."

"Why don't you find out?," Draco said quietly, pushing away from the wall.

Rico turned back to him. "Fine. I'm a reasonable guy, I don't expect you to win, and if you can take it without pussing out and running home to mommy, I'll make you my personal project."

"Why would I want that anyway?" Draco asked. He just about already hated the guy.

"Because I'm the best fucking Brazilian jujitsu fighter here," Rico said, confidently.

Draco turned to Jeff, who nodded, backing up Rico's claim. "What about if I do puss out? Not that that will happen," he added quickly.

"If you can't take it, you leave, and I don't have to see your face again," Rico said bluntly.

"Fine. Lets go," Draco said. He wasn't stupid. He knew that Rico was probably going to kick his ass pretty badly, but he wasn't backing down.

The fight ended embarrassingly quickly. In the end Draco had a busted nose, fat lip, and black eye, but he also had Rico's grudging respect.

Over the next three years as they trained together, they became first reluctant friends, and finally almost like brothers. Draco had never had siblings and he cherished the relationship that he had with the other boy, even adding the name Kovalic to his alias.

* * *

Draco had to stop himself from smirking at Taryn at breakfast. He knew that the little witch was confused by his actions.

He had left directly after the feast last night, not even stopping to talk to her. After a perfunctory introduction as male prefect, he even begged off hanging out in the common room, instead opting to set his room to rights. That decision had also had the affect of putting Taryn off of her game. He just wished he knew the rules that she was using.

There had to be a reason why she had changed her mind about him. He wasn't vain enough to think his looks, though considerable, had flipped her switches. The witch was up to something, and he would enjoy making her work for it.

* * *

**AN: The quote about losing in the cage that Willy says comes from a book I read, ****Blood in the cage : mixed martial arts, Pat Miletich, and the furious rise of the UFC ****by L. Jon Wertheim. **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

"Do you realize what you've done?" a lilting male voice said from behind her.

Taryn was silently walking with the rest of the crowd of excited Slytherins to their house lodgings in the dungeons. She was confused. Everything that she had heard about Draco seemed to suggest that he usually took up with a willing witch at the slightest provocation.

Instead, after the feast was over, he had blatantly ignored her, striding ahead with Crabble and Goyle without a backward glance.

Taryn turned toward the voice. It belonged to a slight, spare boy. His hair was thick golden streaked brown that curled into fat ringlets, but was semi tamed by a short cut. His eyes were a bright, alert hazel. He wasn't much taller than Taryn, perhaps five foot seven at the most. If Tracey's memory served his name was Chase Morgenstern.

Chase was one of the few openly gay boys at Hogwarts. That, plus being a half-blood, didn't put him in the best light to many of the bigots at school. Being in Slytherin house, he dealt with his share of teasing and outright bullying. As a result he became a dab hand and curses, hexes, and defensive spellwork. After Theodore Nott received a nasty stinging hex in retaliation, most wizards kept the bullying to only words.

Taryn's brow rose in question. "What have I done?"

Chase nodded toward Pansy Parkinson, who was walking with Millicent and Daphne, and Taryn's gaze followed. Pansy glared at her with a look so cutting, that it was all Taryn could do to keep from drawing her wand.

"You're acting as if you don't know that Pansy considers Draco her property. Are you forgetting what happened to Alexandria? Last I heard the girl still hasn't grown back her hair," Chase said in amusement.

Taryn frowned. It seemed that she hadn't considered all of the possible ramifications of her plan, and that was unlike her. On the other hand, shouldn't you strike while the iron was hot?

If she was going to seduce Draco, she couldn't very well do it right under Pansy's pug nose, so that meant a room change was in order. She wasn't worried about Pansy's curses. She felt that she could hold her own in that department, but she didn't want to spend the entire year watching her back, especially in her own room.

"Shit. I'm going to have to change rooms," she said in irritation.

Chase scoffed. "That's not going to help much. I wasn't the only one watching you and Draco eye shag at the table. So, what's up with that?"

Taryn's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Why are you so interested?" As far as she knew, Tracey and Chase hadn't even spoken more than ten words to each other in the entire time that had gone to school together. Matter of fact, she couldn't recall that Chase had even had close friends ever. Not that Tracey had been much better in the friend department.

Chase laughed. "Why wouldn't I be? It's like my own personal soap opera playing out right in front of me. You know, you can stay with me if you want," he tentatively suggested. "I have my own room in Serpent Hall."

Taryn's brown crinkled as she thought. Serpent Hall? It pissed her off when she finally realized what Serpent Hall actually was. The damn Slytherins had a bloody resort! She didn't like the fact that Slytherin House had so much room when Gryffindor only had the tower. It also seemed that Slytherin house was more...lax...on rules. There were no enchantments to keep the opposite sexes from...mingling.

She thought about Chase's offer. She had never thought to live with a male, but since she knew that Chase wouldn't be _interested_ in her, well, it seemed like a logical choice. As far as not knowing him, it was much more preferable, getting to know him, than living with Pansy. Also, Chase seemed like a decent bloke, and she really needed a friend. Until she figured out some sort of plan, Harry and Ron weren't available. Even though she had helped Harry she didn't really think they would want to be friends with her, and she would need someone in Slytherin House.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked.

"Sure I am. I really got the room because I couldn't stand rooming with people I didn't like once more. You seem nice, and even though we haven't really talked before, I think I would help anyone who is pissing on pureblood sensibilities," he laughed.

"Well, thanks. Its really nice of you to offer this. I guess I should go get my luggage," Taryn said, not relishing the prospect.

"You could always send the house elves," Chase reminded her.

"No, I think this should be a more personal errand," she said as the crowd finally reached the wall to the Slytherin dungeons.

"The password this year is Minuit," Pansy said, pinning her prefect badge to her robes.

Dammit, Taryn thought, I just can't win. It only got worse as she watched Draco follow Pansy's action pinning a shiny new badge to his robes. He seemed less than pleased at the prospect.

The wall slid open, allowing the crowd to enter.

This was the first time that Taryn had been allowed to see the Slytherin common room, or dungeons with her own eyes. During her second year, after that unfortunate polyjuice potion incident, she hadn't been able to go with Harry and Ron to finagle information from Draco. At least this time there wouldn't be any potion, but there sure would be finagling if she had anything to do with it.

"Have a seat. We have a few announcements," Draco said his voice managing to convey equal parts authority and boredom. "On second thought, I'm going to let you handle this Pans," he said, ignoring Pansy's irritated glance and striding from the room down a corridor to the right.

Taryn sat down on one of the sofas, Chase at her side.

The Slytherin common room was large, lit by greenish lamps and furnished with many black and green leather sofas. It was very austere, maintaining a cold elegance. Curiously, despite being located partially under the lake, it was dry, the temperature comfortable. Not and all dank, and full of damp like she had expected.

"For the newbies, the password for our common room changes every fortnight," Pansy was saying, "It is posted on the noticeboard which can be found on the wall to the left of the entryway. If you forget, that's your problem. You'll be locked out until either you remember, or someone feels sorry enough to let you in," her voice revealed her disgust over such an action. "This isn't Hufflepuff, so learn to take care of yourselves. Draco and I won't be bothered by little annoyances, so unless its something big, don't even knock on my door."

Taryn realized that Pansy was going to be living in the prefect quarters, but she was still firm on her decision to room with Chase. Millicent and Daphne were still less than ideal.

"I'm not going to go over the schedule for everything. It's your job to check the board. We aren't babysitters. That's all. You can all go find your rooms," Pansy continued.

Animated chatter filled the air once more as the students began to file out of the room.

Taryn stood to follow Millicent and Daphne, intent on getting her luggage.

"Davis? Mind if I have a word?" Pansy's voice rang out behind her.

Sighing, Taryn turned around. "Not at all."

The first years, ignorant of house politics, happily made their way to their way to their rooms. Everyone, second year, and up stopped to watch the fireworks that were soon about to erupt.

Pansy strode closer, stopping a few feet away. "Lets not beat around the bush. Draco is mine, keep your filthy half-blood hands off of him."

"Shouldn't that be his decision?" Taryn asked, her lazy voice belying her alert senses.

Gasps echoed around the room. Now this was getting interesting.

Pansy drew back slightly. This wasn't how she had imagined this conversation going. Usually the witches backed down quickly once a threat was issued. This wouldn't do at all.

"He doesn't want you. Why would he when he has me?" Pansy hissed.

Taryn smiled, amused. "Really? Then why did he shag Alexandria, and plenty other witches six ways to Sunday? Need I remind you that you aren't his girlfriend?"

Chuckles went through the crowd. Not many people actually liked Pansy. She was rude, vindictive, and thought that she was much better than anyone else.

Pansy's face grew red with rage. "That's none of your business, you bitch! Alexandria was a slag, and so are you if you go after a guy that is clearly involved with someone else. You better watch your back. Need I remind _you_ what happened to Alexandra? Here's some of what she got!" Pansy said drawing her wand from her robes.

"Expelliarmus! Duratus!" Taryn said sharply. Pansy was knocked to the ground, frozen, her wand skidding across the floor. Pansy's face turned a greyish color, her lips tinting blue, as ice formed in her hair. She was literally slowly freezing.

Taryn advanced on her slowly, eyes scanning the crowd for anyone else thinking to cast a hex at her back.

"How can you be so thick, Parkinson?" She said, walking in a slow circle around the other girl. "You might be able to bluff all of these other girls, but you don't scare me. I will do what I want with whomever I want, and nobody is going to tell me not to. I went easy on you today, but next time I might not be so nice. So you watch _your_ back," Taryn said quietly, before turning and striding through the crowd to go get her luggage.

Everyone goggled at her back, including Pansy who was slowly unfreezing on the ground, icicles dropping from her hair, shivers shaking her body as feeling returned to her skin. Her clothes were completely soaked, the chilled fabric sticking to her skin. She was enraged and confused. The Tracey she remembered had been a wimp, always going along with whatever she said, just to be a part of the group. She now realized that Taryn wasn't going to be easily scared away. She had to find another way to get rid of the witch.

Chase ran up to Taryn who had reached the room and was levitating her luggage to follow her out of the door. "Damn, Davis. You are my new best friend," he said animatedly, practically hopping in excitement beside her.

Taryn laughed a bit, before asking, "Do we need to let Snape know that I'll be rooming with you this year?"

Chase shook his head. "No, he won't care. I think he has a parchment that self-updates on the lodging front. Besides, I've paid enough for my room to invite any bloody person I want."

"You should let me pay you half or something," Taryn said.

"No way, I invited you," Chase insisted, stifling any argument attempts.

"Okay, but I at least intend to help with household items and food, and if there is anything I can do to help you out just say so. You really are doing me a huge favor."

"You could join the yoga group I intend to start," Chase said.

"Yoga? I guess I could. It would definitely help me with flexibility," she said, thinking.

"Oh, yeah? You have some big plans for Malfoy, eh?" Chase said, grinning at her.

Taryn slapped his shoulder. "I dance ballet, but sure, I'll join," she said, rolling her eyes at her new friend.

They strode down Serpent Hall, stopping before a portrait of thin, older lady decked out in a blue dress and a huge matching hat with a white plume. Chase's name appeared on a plaque over the doorway.

"Are you Morgenstern?" she asked Chase in a nasally voice.

"I am," Chase replied.

"I am Lady Prescott. I require you to perform the Nimetage charm to verify your identity," she said, glancing at him suspiciously.

"Nimetage," Chase said, pointing his wand at the portrait. An orange glow erupted from the wand and outlined the portrait.

Lady Prescott's eyes closed for a moment before opening. "Identity approved. Now you may add a password, using silent spellwork to maintain privacy of course."

Chase did so, waiting until they entered the room to tell her that the password was Pitt.

"As in Brad," he said on a laugh.

"Wow," Taryn said looking around the room taking in the amenities. "How many rooms do you have in here?"

"Just the one. We'll have to share, not that you'll be spending much time in here. Did you happen to notice who leased the other rooms?" he asked her slyly.

"No, who?" she asked, pulling her gaze from the kitchenette. It would be nice to cook her own meal occasionally. She didn't relish the thought of meal upon meal, day after day with the rest of Slytherin house.

"The room directly across from ours belongs to Grahame Massenet. Down from his is Livia Carson, but just a wall away is none other than Draco "His Royal Hotness" Malfoy," Chase said, watching for her reaction.

"Hmm, well that is interesting," Taryn said blandly. "So you think he's hot?"

Chase sighed dramatically. "Really? Interesting? That's all you are going to give me? And, of course I think he's hot. I have eyes. He has excellent hair and a ripped bod. What's not to like?"

"How about his attitude? Or the fact that he can be a total asshole?"

"He is actually one of the only guys who didn't fuck with me about being gay," Chase said quietly.

That didn't mesh at all with the Draco that Taryn had observed for the last five years of school. The Draco she knew wouldn't hesitate to strike at the weakest spot a person had.

"Why are you going after him if you think he is such an asshole?" Chase asked curiously.

"Maybe his hotness finally sank in," Taryn said trying to diffuse the awkward conversation.

Chase knew an evasion when he heard one. "What color do you think we should tint the room? I was thinking purple," he said changing the subject.

Taryn shivered. Purple would probably always remind of Dolohov's curse. "How about yellow? Its cheery."

"Right. I always thought the dungeons could do with a bit of cheer," Chase said in agreement.

After an hour of magical adjustments the room had bright yellow walls, white furniture, white curtains on the windows, and yellow and white area rug spread over the stone floor. The kitchen was tinted a spring green with yellow kitchen items.

Upstairs they went with a calmer, soft, golden color. They transfigured the bed into an l-shaped bunk bed that had a desk attached.

Taryn was pleased to note that there was both drawers and a closet, even if she would be sharing. It would make for less anti-wrinkle charms.

They flipped a galleon to see who got the bottom bunk, and Taryn was glad that she she wouldn't be the one climbing to the top bunk every night.

"You know, you should really give me the bottom bunk," Chase said, "You'll be spending so much time in Draco's bed that I bet you won't even be using this one very often."

"You calling me a slut?" Taryn asked in a mock fierce tone.

"Well, if the shoe fits..." Chase was cut off by a pillow hitting his face.

* * *

The next day Taryn and Chase secured a table to themselves in the newly decorated Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She glanced at the table across the aisle from hers, frowning when Draco ignored her. She didn't know how to begin her plan of seduction, especially if the wizard she wanted to seduce wasn't cooperating. She was confused. He had seemed to be interested, but now he was acting as if she didn't exist. Maybe she had put too much stock into a few heated looks.

She turned her attention to the front of the room as the door opened, Harry and Ron entering the room followed by Snape.

The room was dim, curtains drawn tightly over the windows, the only light coming from several lit candles. The pictures decorating the walls were frankly disturbing, depicting people contorted in pain, missing limbs, or deformed in strange ways.

"Books away," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk. "I wish to speak, and I want your complete attention."

His dark gaze went around the room. "You have had five teachers in this subject. Naturally, all these teachers had their own methods and priorities. You lot are lucky to have scraped by with an O.W.L in this subject. I will be supremely surprised if any of you are able to keep up with the far more advanced N.E.W.T studies."

Snape began to walk through the room as he spoke. "The Dark Arts are varied, ever changing, and continuously evolving. Fighting against the Dark Arts is akin to fighting a many headed beast, which, each time a neck is severed, spouts another more dangerous and clever than the first. You are fighting against a force that is unfixed, mutating, and indelible. Your methods of defense must therefore be as diverse and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he said motioning to the horrible photos on the wall, "Are are a fair representation of those who suffer because of the Dark Arts."

He walked back toward his desk, his dark robes billowing, as every eye followed his movement. "You are all, I believe, total novices at the art of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Taryn's hand flew in the air. This was something she could do. If everything else in her life was a complete and utter mess, at least she could rely upon her brain. After Snape acknowledged her she said, "A nonverbal spell gives you the advantage of your adversary not being able to anticipate the kind of magic you're about to perform. It also has the additional time benefit."

Many a Slytherin, including Snape, stared at Taryn. Even a few of the Gryffindor boys found themselves taking a second glance at the girl. None could remember a time when the witch had troubled herself to speak aloud in class. Snape himself was surprised. The only reason Tracey Davis had received good grades was because of her excellent essay skills.

"Twenty points to Slytherin," Snape said, pleased. "Miss Davis is correct. Those who progress to using nonverbal spells gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this; of course, it takes a fair amount of concentration and mind power which some" ̶̶ his gaze landed on Harry spitefully ̶ "lack."

Taryn watched Harry's face suffuse with anger.

"You will now divide into pairs. You will each attempt to jinx the other _without speaking_. The other will try to repel the jinx in equal _silence_. Choose someone who is not a friend, as a friend may be able to anticipate the kind of spell you might use."

Taryn frowned. She didn't want to trust another Slytherin, besides Chase, to jinx her. She knew that the Gryffindors would all pair off with each other, as would the Slytherins. On the other hand, this was an excellent chance to get close to Malfoy.

Just as the idea formed in her mind, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around she saw that Draco had instead approached her.

"Wanna be my partner Davis?" Draco said, his mouth crooked into a smile.

"Sure," Taryn said, eying him with a measuring look. "I kind of thought that you might be avoiding me."

"I'd never avoid a beautiful girl," Draco said, in direct contradiction to his actions.

"Hmm," Taryn said, one brow risen in disbelief. "Would you like to attempt to jinx me first? Or shall I go?"

"Ladies first," Draco drawled.

"Fine," Taryn said as they turned to face each other.

Draco's eyes ran slowly down and back up her body, his gaze frankly appreciative. She refused to acknowledge the shiver that ran through her body in response. He slowly raised one arm, positioning to repel her action when attempted.

Taryn was so fiercely intent on her nonverbal Tarantallegra, that she was startled when Harry's shout broke through the relative silence of the room.

When she glanced toward the commotion, Snape was picking himself off of the floor, dusting off his robes and scowling.

"Do you remember, Potter, that you were to be practicing _nonverbal_ spells?" Snape snarled.

"Yes," Harry said stiffly.

"Yes, _sir_."

"There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor."

Several people in the class, mostly Slytherins, gasped at Harry's impudence. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

"Oh, Harry," Taryn said, shaking her head. At Draco's sharp look she added, "How thick can he be?"

Draco continued looking at her in suspicion.

Great, she thought, this is all I need. Her plan was _not_ going well at all.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," Snape was saying. "I don't take cheek from anyone, Potter...not even the _Chosen One_."

Shortly thereafter class ended. Taryn had wanted to talk to Draco, but when she had finally gathered all of her books and reached the doorway, she only caught a glimpse of his pale hair further down the corridor.

* * *

Chase and Taryn had a free period together which they spent gossiping.

"So, what is going on in the Draco front?" Chase asked, leaning forward to listen avidly.

They were in the their room on the sofa, each nursing a cold soda.

"Abso-bloody-lutely nothing," Taryn sighed, rolling the cold bottle against her forehead. She was starting to get a horrible headache, probably from the whiplash of Draco's hot and cold attitude.

"What do you mean nothing? I get that you can't get up to much in class, but where was the witty banter? The lingering looks?" Chase asked in exasperation.

"There were looks alright, but it isn't going anywhere. I just don't get him. Any other guy, no offense, would be all over me from the signals I've been sending."

"Taryn, can I be honest with you for a second?" Chase asked.

"Sure," Taryn said curiously.

Chase grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Other than the look at the feast, I haven't seen you throw any signals. It's like you are getting your information from Cosmo or something. How did you attract your last boyfriend?"

Taryn blushed. "I've never actually had a boyfriend, and Cosmo can be informative!"

Chase goggled. "You're a _virgin_? And you are going after _Draco Malfoy_?"

"I'm not a virgin!" Or rather Tracey wasn't, Taryn thought in annoyance.

"You aren't trying to be his girlfriend are you? I just have to say that that isn't a good idea. You are going to end up hurt. Many a girl has tried and failed. I'm not saying that he is a horrible guy, but be careful. Now if you just want a shag, then go after the bloke," Chase said, taking a sip of his coke.

"Is that what you do?" Taryn asked him.

Chase looked uncomfortable. "I've had both. I've played the field and had serious boyfriends."

"What about now?" Taryn questioned.

"I...kind of have a boyfriend, but I'm not being really serious about it," he said quietly.

"Why not? He isn't an ass is he?"

"Well, no. Its just...He isn't out okay," Chase frowned.

Taryn's brow quirked. "I really can't see you dating someone that isn't out. Especially since you are so upfront about yourself."

"We're going to have a bonding moment aren't we?" Chase sighed in resignation.

Taryn nodded with a trace of amusement before sobering. "Yup."

Chase slouched further into the couch cushions. "I really like him. He's really amazing. Smart and handsome, but I don't think he is interested in letting people know about us and its frustrating. He's pushing me back into the bloody closet and I'm not really okay with it. We started out pretty casual, but when we decided to be boyfriends I kind of thought that he was really to tell people about us. I feel a little selfish though. I mean, everyone comes out when they are ready and I don't want to rush him. I get some of his reasons why though. He's older and his profession doesn't really appreciate gay men. I feel bad about it but I don't see us going much further if he doesn't come up to scratch soon."

"Who is he? I promise that you can trust me with the information," Taryn said, patting his shoulder in sympathy.

"I know you wouldn't. Do you think I'd let you live with me if I didn't think that you were trustworthy?" He said. "He's a – or he was – a Gryffindor," Chase said, watching her for an adverse reaction.

Taryn had to stifle a giggle. Of course he wouldn't know that she'd be one of the only Slytherins that would actually be happy for him to date a Gryffindor. "That doesn't matter to me," she said, and watched him visibly relax.

"Okay. Um...It's Oliver Wood," Chase said.

"Oliver Wood is gay? Puddlemere United's Oliver Wood?"

"Well since he's my boyfriend and we shagged all summer, I'd say that its a logical assumption that he's gay," Chase said with a laugh.

"Really...You know, I always thought that he was cute, and I don't remember him fancying any girls," she said musing. "How did you meet him anyway?"

"My Uncle buys season tickets and maintains a box. He also has a friend that his part owner of the team. I actually met Ollie during a dinner at my Uncle's home. It just sort of progressed from there."

Taryn sat up abruptly, clapping her hands together. "Okay, here's my advice. I think that you should have a serious talk with him about it. Just be gentle. Tell him what you feelings about the situation is and let him explain his own. If he needs a little more time and if you feel that he's worth it, then give it to him. If he doesn't seem like he will ever be ready, then I think that you should let him go. If you don't then you'll just end up bitter because you aren't being allowed to be yourself."

"Wow, that's pretty insightful Miss Davis," Chase said slowly. "Are you sure that you aren't looking for more from Draco? If you are just keep what I said in mind."

With Chase's advice swirling through her brain, Taryn began to realize just how unformed her plan actually was. One shag wasn't going to do it. She wasn't naive enough to believe that after sleeping with her that Draco would spill all of his secrets. She actually didn't think he had many, he was only sixteen after all. Voldemort wouldn't be stupid enough to spill secrets to a sixteen year old would he? Perhaps Draco had only overheard some of the things his father's cohorts had said out of turn.

Either way, she wanted to know anything that might help the order. It was going to take a far more aggressive plan than she had originally intended. She wanted to pry answers from him of course, but she also wanted to snoop in his room. Since Serpent Hall had a very nice common room, there was only one reason why he would invite her to his private quarters. This plan was forming into something that would have gone against everything that Hermione Granger had been and stood for. Bookish, and shy with boys, she'd even been too shy to try for Ron when she had the chance. She wasn't used to being aggressive with men. The few dates that she had had were always initiated by the boy. This was different. It wasn't a date to the Yule Ball. This was possibly a life or death situation, and it would call for a no-holds barred approach. The fact was that she would have to do more than seduce him. She was going to have to get Draco Malfoy to fall in love with her.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

The dungeon was full of vapors and the odd smells that usually accompanied potion making. There were four steaming cauldrons, three sitting on a pedestal in front of three of the large tables that furnished the room. The last was on Slughorn's desk.

The class size was much smaller than Draco was used to. Only three other Slytherin's besides himself had been able to make the required O.W.L grade. Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and interestingly enough Taryn Davis.

There were also four Ravenclaws, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillian, who quickly strode to share a table with Harry and Ron, who had unfortunately made the class as well.

The four Ravenclaws took a table as did the remaining Slytherins, Draco took a seat next to Taryn, leaving her on one the end of the table.

Slughorn lumbered to the front of the room, his large walrus mustache curved above his wide grin. "Welcome, Welcome. I must say that I am a bit surprised as to how small the class is, not to say that I am displeased. This will, of course, allow for greater focus. Now then, scales out, and potion kits. I hope that you all remembered to bring your copy of Advanced Potion-Making..."

"Sir," Harry said raising his hand, "Ron and I don't have all of our supplies. We didn't realize that we would be able to take Potions this year..."

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention...don't worry m'boy. You both can use ingredients from the store cupboards today. There are some scales and a few books in there as well."

Draco smirked at Slughorn's ingratiating tone. He would wager that Slughorn would do an impromptu tap dance if Saint Potter indicated that he wanted one. He hoped that the entire year wasn't going to consist of him watching as Slughorn kissed arse.

He was actually looking forward to this year's Potions. It, other than Defense Against the Dark Arts, was one of his strongest subjects, and he often found himself feeling stifled at the lack of progression.

Snape was excellent at providing his students with a working knowledge of rudimentary potion making, but the teacher too often had allowed himself to get sidetracked by his obvious dislike of Potter. Like the incident that happened in DADA earlier in the week. He wished Potter would take far more advantage of his celebrity status and deem class unworthy of his attention. It would limit the brown-nosing in this class at least.

Slughorn sat two battered books, along with a pair of tarnished scales in front of Harry and Ron before returning to the front of the room. "Now then, I've prepared a few potions for you to examine. These are just a few the types of potions you ought to be able to brew after taking my class," his chest puffed, the buttons of his waistcoat threatening to pop off. "You have most likely heard of them, even if you haven't yet prepared them yourself. Can anyone tell me what this one is?" he said motioning toward the cauldron in front of the Slytherin table.

Veritaserum, Draco thought, eying the liquid in the cauldron. The bubbling liquid looked very much like plain boiling water.

Taryn's hand flew into the air. "Its Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," she answered after Slughorn called on her.

"Very good," Slughorn said happily, "Now," he said pointing at the one nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known. It has appeared in many Ministry leaflets lately. Who can...?"

Taryn's hand hit the air again. Draco pushed back a smile. Her eager know it all attitude was actually kind of cute.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

"Excellent! Now, how about this one here...yes m'dear?," said Slughorn in a bemused tone as Taryn's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn looking very impressed, "but I assume you know what it does."

Draco would be very surprised if she didn't. His brow furrowed. She was reminding him of someone...but he couldn't quite put his finger on who exactly.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" Taryn said.

"Quite right. You did, of course, recognize it by its distinctive mother of pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in spirals," Taryn said confidently, completely engrossed in her answer. "It is said to smell differently to each person, according to what attracts them to whomever they desire. I can smell new parchment, a deep spicy, woody scent, and leather..."

She stopped abruptly, her cheeks turning pink.

Leather? Taryn Davis was attracted to leather? Hmmmm, Draco thought.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" Slughorn asked, ignoring Taryn's embarrassment.

"Taryn Davis, sir."

Slughorn reached over to his desk, consulting the class list. "Tracey Taryn Davis? Might you be related to Nigel Davis? The CEO of Davis Line?"

"Um...he's my father," Taryn said, squirming in discomfiture.

"Interesting, that," Slughorn said. "Well, take twenty well deserved points for Slytherin."

"Back to the potion," Slughorn continued, "Amortentia doesn't actually create love. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. This instead causes a powerful attraction or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous potion in the room..."

Draco and Theo smirked skeptically at each other. Draco didn't subscribe to notions of love, and he damn sure wouldn't let a potion force him to do so.

Slughorn noting their disbelief stated, "When you have lived as long as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love, or rather a force that resembles it."

"Now," Slughorn said rubbing his hands together, "it is time to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what is in this one," Ernie Macmillian said, pointing to the last cauldron sitting on Slughorn's desk. The potion inside looked like molten gold, roiling like ocean water, drops leaping out of the liquid like fish, and landing neatly back within.

"Oho," said Slughorn. Draco was sure the bootlicker hadn't forgotten the potion, but had merely waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Well, that there is a curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Taryn who had gasped, "that you know about the properties of Felix Felicis, Miss Davis?"

"It is liquid luck," Taryn said excitedly, "it makes you lucky."

Draco, as well as the rest of the class, sat up straighter. Slughorn now had his full and undivided attention. A little luck would go a long way toward completing his task. With Felix Felicis he might even make the next year with all of his limbs intact.

"Yes, indeed. Another ten points to Slytherin. Yes, its a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. It is extremely difficult to make, and can be disastrous if prepared incorrectly. However, if brewed properly, as this has been, you will find that all of your endeavors tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off," Slughorn said.

"Why don't people brew it all the time then?" asked Terry Boot eagerly.

"Well there is the previous mention of difficulty of brewing, and if taken in excess Felix Felicis causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. In addition it is highly toxic taken if taken in large quantities, but if used sparingly, and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" Michael Corner asked with great interest.

"Twice in my life. Once when I was twenty-four and again when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons with breakfast. Two perfect days," answered Slughorn, gazing dreamily into the distance, obviously lost in memory, before snapping back to the present. "And that," he continued, "is what I shall offer as a prize in this lesson."

In the resulting silence after his statement, the bubbling and hissing of the cauldrons seemed to amplify.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," Slughorn said, drawing a small cork stoppered vial from his pocket and showing them all, before filling the tiny bottle with the golden liquid. "This is enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk you will be successful in in everything you attempt. Now I must warn you that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competition," he said eying several of the students who were quidditch players, "so the winner is to only use this for an ordinary day. An ordinary day that will soon become extraordinary!"

Draco inwardly scoffed. Slughorn was naive if he thought that anyone would follow that particular rule.

"So, how do you intend to win my fabulous prize?" Slughorn asked, his tone suddenly more businesslike, "Please open your textbooks to page ten. There is one hour left to us, which is a decent enough time for you to make a stab at the Draught for Living Death. I know that it is more complex than anything that you have attempted thus far, so I do not expect a perfect potion. I do, however, expect you to do your best. This class is about experimentation and challenge. The best potion will win little Felix Felicis. Now, off you go!"

The scrapping sounds of cauldrons being drawn closer echoed throughout the room. Draco cracked open his book, the pages crisp and new. He forcibly tamped down the bit of hope that rose within him. He had to keep his mind on the prize. This was, perhaps, the most important potion that he would ever brew. It could be the difference between his life or death.

He ignored the glances being thrown his way, methodically chopping his valerian root, and consulting his book between every step.

Soon a bluish steam flowed around the room. Slughorn appoached his table. "Wasn't your grandfather Abraxas Malfoy?"

Draco pushed down his irritation at being interrupted. "Yes sir, he was."

"I was sorry to hear when he died, thought it was not unexpected. Dragon Pox is a nasty way to go. It's nice to see his grandson so interested in potions..." Slughorn droned on.

I would be, Draco thought, if you would bloody leave me to the potion making. He had to forcibly keep himself from snapping at the man. Eventually the man moved away to pester Potter and Weasley.

"And...time's up," he said shortly thereafter. "Stop stirring please!"

Slughorm moved slowly among the tables, stopping occasionally to stir or sniff. He gave an approving nod at both Draco's and Taryn's cauldrons as he moved further down stopping before Harry's.

A wide smile spread across his face as he peered into the cauldron. "Perfect! A clear winner! It seems that you have inherited your mother's talent at potion-making, Harry. Here you are. One bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised. I hope you use it well!"

Draco cursed under his breath. Harry Potter was decent at Potions, but he _knew_ that he was better. If fucking Slughorn had just let him alone, rather than distracting him, he might have had a chance.

"How did you do that?" he heard Weasley ask as the students exited the classroom.

"Just got lucky I guess," Potter said.

Bullshit, Draco thought. _Nobody_ was that lucky with such a difficult potion right away.

Potter irritated him further that week by continuously producing amazing potion results. It got to the point that whenever Slughorn opened his mouth everyone expected more Saint Potter worship to spill from his lips.

Draco made the effort to ignore Potter, and he was sure that his lack of hostility was more than confusing to the other boy. He just didn't have the time. Both his task, and a certain cinnamon haired girl had prime spots in his thoughts these days.

He had tried to push the Taryn business to the back of his mind. He found that it was actually much harder than he had assumed it would be, and he didn't like it one bit. Never before had a witch occupied his mind on such a level. He wasn't used to such intensity. Sexual attraction he understood, and it was something that they had in spades. Sometimes his fingers literally itched with the effort of keeping from grabbing the girl and taking over her very kissable lips, but he handled the notion with steely will. He at least had to set his plan in motion before he could entertain more _pleasurable_ diversions.

Mostly, though, it was the emotional aspects that he found himself ill equipped to deal with. He found himself thinking about how much he liked the way she looped her hair up, sticking in a chopstick to get the heavy strands out of her way while preparing ingredients in potions, or how her face would flush whenever their eyes locked.

He often had to rip his eyes away from her lush mouth, pushing back the urge to kiss her every time her tongue darted out to moisten them.

He knew that his hot and cold attitude was confusing to the witch, but he couldn't bring himself to completely ignore her, so he would often engage her in conversation, even starting a debate just to watch her eyes spark with passion as she tried to prove her point. Then at other times he would pretend not to see her while walking through the corridors, or make noncommittal comments addressing whatever she was talking about. He often had to bite back a grin at her clear annoyance.

It was dangerous, this attraction. He refused to label it as anything else. He couldn't afford to allow himself to get distracted, at least not until after he had killed Dumbledore, _if_ he got away with it. He didn't think she would be as interested if he was found guilty of murder and sent to Azkaban.

He had begun to plan the way to best get the Opal Necklace to Dumbledore. It would be tricky. He had to find a way to get the necklace to Dumbledore that couldn't be traced directly back to him. He would need an intermediary. Someone that Dumbledore would trust and he wouldn't expect to betray him.

* * *

He was sitting at Slytherin table, cutting into a piece of grilled chicken breast when he felt a familiar searing pain race across his left forearm.

He was glad that he was wearing a sleeved shirt because he wasn't sure if he would have been able to maintain the glamour covering the mark. He didn't want anyone to know that he was marked, and had decided that even though he knew that many already speculated that he was a Death Eater, it was much more preferable to leave it in question. He didn't think he would be able to pretend to be proud. It wasn't a mark of pride for Draco. Instead it was a constant reminder of his servitude, his slavery, the fact that his mother wasn't yet out of danger. Also it reminded him that he was a failure. He couldn't keep the darkness away, and it was taking too fucking long to find a solution.

He stood abruptly, striding away from the table and ignoring curious gazes that followed his lean figure from the hall.

He stopped by his room to retrieve a dark cloak, and a knitted hat to ward against the chill. He also affixed a small pouch to his belt. He was certain that he would need the items within.

Because of the anti-Apparition jinxes that riddled Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds, he was forced to fly his broom to Hogsmeade to the nearest public Apparition point. He, of course, made sure that a Disillusionment charm was firmly in place to protect against prying eyes.

He stashed his broom and the pouch under a convenient row of bushes before Disapparating, allowing the mark to lead him to Voldemort.

He appeared in a damp, misty graveyard. In front of him was a mausoleum designed like a Greek revival building, surrounded by a low wrought iron fence. It had once been beautiful, he could tell, but now its walls were covered in moss, ivy and neglect. By the moonlight, he could just read the name carved above its iron double doors. Utteridge.

He swallowed against his fear, pushing through the fence, and ignoring the protesting screech of metal as he forced the rusted gate out of his way.

He knocked sharply on the metal door, the sound echoing through the stillness of the graveyard. The door swung open, and a lighted wand was shoved into his face. The wand was quickly lowered, revealing Wormtail's ugly visage.

"Come in boy, you are expected."

It seemed that the temperature was at least ten degrees lower within the mausoleum. There were two large marble tombs, carved with the outline of resting figures.

He watched as Wormtail approached the rear wall of the small mausoleum. He tapped his wand against a stone, muttering a quiet incantation. The stones slid back, much like the wall to Diagon Alley, revealing a fire lit entrance.

"This way then," the Wormtail said.

Beyond the gaping dark hole of the entryway was a descending stone corridor that seemed newer than the mausoleum behind it. There were sconces affixed to the green columns that lined the corridor. The columns held up heavy arches, beyond which was only darkness.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice echoing through the gloom. He could hear the drip of water sliding down stone walls, and plopping against the floor in the distance.

"Does it matter?" Wormtail answered, turning toward him and raising a brow in question.

"I guess it doesn't," Draco returned. His eyes closed for a minute as he mentally prepared himself for the Dark Lord's presence.

The walk through the grim corridor seemed interminable, but soon Draco found himself in front of another large doorway. The large, wooden double doors had two huge silver door rings carved like ourobori. Pulling the door open, Wormtail waited for Draco to enter. The room beyond was a long, narrow reception hall

The walls inside were covered in emerald green velvet, and decorated with silver gilded mirrors, that upon closer inspection had people trapped inside their silvered depths. Within one, a middle aged witch beat against the glass, her hands bloody, mouth open in a silent scream.

The floors were bare green marble, their decoration only a silver tiled runner leading to a large throne cushioned in more green velvet, upon which the Dark Lord sat.

Draco took in the room with a quick, yet thorough, glance. There had to be another exit. Voldemort would not leave himself trapped. He also would bet his entire inheritance that there were anti-Apparition charmed firmly in place throughout the room.

The room was decked out like a dark revel. Many people were in attendance, dressed in finery or simply their Deatheater robes. Draco had to restrain himself from approaching his mother when he spied her standing with Bellatrix against the wall.

"You may approach," Voldemort hissed, reclaiming Draco's attention. "Make room!" he snapped to the Death Eaters, who quickly moved to either side of the long floor runner.

Draco walked silently down the silver tiles, stopping a few feet before the platform upon which the throne sat.

"My Lord," he said quietly, dropping down to his knees, head bowed.

"I have given you a tasssk to complete. A difficult tasssk for one sssuch as you, but an order nonethelessss. Where are you regarding the preparationssss?" Voldemort asked, his low voice hissing through the now silent room.

"I have began the task, my Lord. I believe that it will be successful. The timing is the most important factor. The plan that I will set into motion is dependent upon optimal timing," Draco said, eyes on the floor. He trembled. Not just with fear, but also with a healthy dose of anger, and resentment that he was forced to hide the emotion.

Since his head was down, he didn't see Voldemort raise his wand. He only heard the "Crucio", before he was racked with terrible pain, his muscles seizing in protest. He fell from his knees into a ball of twitching agony, writhing against the freezing stone floor.

He heard his mother's gasp, and he grit his teeth, determined not to let a single cry pass his lips.

"I want more progresssss! I have other plansss that are contingent upon the completion of _your_ task," Voldemort snarled. "Crucio!" he said again as the spell began to wane.

Draco almost bit his tongue as another wave of pain seized his body.

"Please, my Lord! It's only been a few weeks!" Narcissa cried from the sidelines.

Voldemorts head whipped toward her, his concentration wavering, and Draco finally felt blessed relief.

"Did I give you leave to speak?" Voldemort asked, directing his comment toward Narcissa.

"No, my Lord," Narcissa said, cowed. She looked like a beaten animal, one that had a broken spirit and only anticipated more cruelty.

Voldemort smiled chillingly at her, delighting in the shiver that visibly raked her body. "I expect to sssee sssome resultssss sssooon. You may ssshow your appreciation for my attentivenesss," he hissed in a soft, menacing tone while glancing down at Draco.

Draco painfully pulled himself from the floor. Ignoring the fact that his body was spasming with the aftereffects of the curse, he lowered himself once more to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"You may leave now," Voldemort said, waving his hand in dismissal.

Draco resisted throwing once last glance at his mother, turning on his heel and leaving the way he had came.

Back in Hogsmeade, he cast another Disillusionment charm before staggering to the row of bushes to retrieve his broom. Opening the pouch, he downed the bitter pain relief potions, before tiredly climbing back on his broom to return back to the castle.

He had been gone less than two hours. He still had time before lights out to obsess and fine tune the beginning of his plan.

* * *

Halfway through October came opportunity for an official student trip to Hogmeade.

Draco had waited on pins and needles, afraid that he would be called before the Dark Lord once again. Voldemort was impatient for either his success or death it seemed.

Draco woke early that day. He stayed in his room, forcing down a bowl of cereal, and attempted to study while he waited until it was time to leave for the village.

When the time finally arrived, he dressed carefully. For what he was going to attempt, he wouldn't be able to wear the clothes that his mother insisted that he buy. Those clothes consisted of the usual sweaters, trousers, and the like, and wouldn't do for what he had in mind. He couldn't be exactly like the other men that roamed through the village. He definitely couldn't be the preppy version of himself.

He would have to bring more of Ryu to the table.

Ryu was Draco at his most primal, his most basic self. The person that he kept hidden. The stronger piece of himself, and the steel in his backbone.

Soon he was attired in dark wash jeans, a grey shirt that matched his eyes, and a buttery soft black leather jacket. The weather, which was proving stormy, made the addition of black boots, gloves, and a black scarf a must. Because he disliked extra layers, he placed a warming charm upon himself, before pulling a black beanie on his head. He pulled a messenger bag over his shoulder, wrapping the Opal Necklace in a Tueri cloth, and stuffing it inside.

The walk to Hogsmeade was only slightly bearable, and he ended up casting _another_ warming charm to join the first just to keep his skin from feeling raw from the cold. He walked by himself, telling Crabble and Goyle that he was meeting a certain lady. He let them guess as to her identity.

Watching Harry Potter and Ron Weasley enter Honeydukes, he kept on his course, soon arriving at the Three Broomsticks.

Inside the inn, it was cozy and warm. His face, blessedly, began to lose its chill. As always it was full of people, each table crowded to the maximum. Laughter and voices abounded.

Walking up to the bar, he questioned the bartender, "Where is Madame Rosmerta?"

The man, who obviously thought that he was a pretty boy, eyed him with one raised brow. The man had dark chestnut brown hair, and bright green eyes, and a tall solid build.

"What do you want with her?" Jealousy filled the man's tone. Obviously he and Rosmerta had something going on the side, regardless of the fact that the man had to be a good ten years younger.

So the witch liked younger men? Maybe that would work for him.

"She is expecting me," Draco lied.

"The hell she – " he began angrily, "You know what? Fuck it. I'm tired of this shit. She's in the storeroom getting more getting more rum. Left doorway. Be my guest," he huffed, walking away to slam a glass in front of a surprised wizard.

"Hey, man! I didn't order this!" Draco heard the wizard saying as he went through the door.

The doorway led down a short hallway. At the end of the hallway was the storeroom, and he could hear the shifting of items within. He turned the knob – the door wasn't even locked! – and went inside.

He watched the witch grasp a small bottle of rum, pulling it down from the shelf.

"Need some help with that?" Draco asked quietly.

"Holy Merlin! What are you doing in here?" Rosmerta asked, pushing a thick blonde lock behind her ear. The woman was in her thirties, much older than he was, but she was still quite attractive. He body was curvy in all the right places, rounded, and mature. At any other time he might have enjoyed what he was about to do.

"I just thought that you might need a hand," he said drifting closer to her. He stopped mere inches away, looking down into her brown eyes. He watched her mouth open slightly, as she gasped in a breath.

"Don't stand so close. Do you have any idea what this will look like if anyone comes in here?" she asked breathlessly. He didn't miss the interested glance that she scanned down his body.

Draco knew she wasn't as unaffected by his presence as her statement would have it seem. He watched her eyes darken. Draco wasn't above using sexual attraction to achieve his means. Up to a point that is. He wasn't going to shag the witch. He merely needed her alone and distracted.

He leaned in closer, watching her eyes close and her lips part as she anticipated a kiss. Pushing a stray strand of hair from her face, he reached for his wand. "Imperio," he said quietly, pointing his wand near her temple.

He watched as her eyes blink open and then blank, as she waited for his command. He pulled the Tueri wrapped necklace from his bag.

"Open and raise your hands," he said, placing the bundled into her hands. "Don't unwrap this cloth yourself. You will find a way to give this to Dumbledore. I know that you are acquaintances and it will not look odd for you give him a gift. The only thing about this meeting I want you to remember is your desire to have this necklace given to Dumbledore with all due haste. You will not tell anyone that you are under the Imperius curse. No one. Not by look, word, or deed. After you have completed this task you will go about your life as per usual and await for my further instructions. Are we clear?"

"Yes," her voice was monotone.

He nodded once, then made sure to leave the room before her mind fully cleared from the spell.

He calmly walked back to the bar, and ignoring the bartender's glare, and ordered a butterbeer, wishing that he could have something a bit stronger.

"That was fast. I guess she didn't fuck you then," the bartender said maliciously.

Draco ignored the man and downed his drink, before leaving the Three Broomsticks. He had badly wanted to curse the man, but he didn't want anything to stick out about his visit to the inn.

He figured that Rosmerta would get the necklace to Dumbledore as soon as possible. The weight of the Imperius curse would only grow heaver the longer it took the witch to follow his orders. He didn't actually care how she planned to accomplish the task, he just wanted it completed. The sooner she acted, the sooner he could think of a way to get his mother from under Voldemort's thumb.

...

Walking back to the castle when he felt the unmistakeable weight of eyes upon his back. He pretended not to notice them, but he covertly palmed his wand. If they had wanted to hex him they had had plenty of time while he was thinking, distracted by the details of his plan to do so, so he figured that they had something else in mind.

He walked, not through the entrance, but along the grounds, trailing beside the castle wall. Suddenly he whipped to his around, slamming whoever was following him into the wall, his hand at their throat.

With a strangled gasp, the person's Disillusionment charm melted away.

It was Taryn Davis.

Draco immediately gentled his grasp, before asking, "Why are you following me?"

"Let me go!" she said angrily, wriggling in his grasp, her blue eyes flashing.

"Not until you tell me why you were following me."

He watched as she bit her lip, her forehead furrowing.

"I just wanted to see what you were up to. You have been acting strangely," she said.

Draco removed his hand completely, but didn't move away, content to invade her space. His brow rose. "You don't know me well enough to judge whether or not I'm acting strangely."

"And you don't give me the chance," she said in exasperation. "You are so hot and cold. I don't get you. One minute you look at me like I'm some kind of dessert, and the next like I'm a nest of vipers. You need to make up your mind!"

Draco's lips quirked. "That is quite an ultimatum, Miss Davis. You needn't have followed me. If you wanted my attention, you just should have asked."

"You are so vain. Its not about attention, its..." His lips crashed into hers, cutting off her next words.

At first she was resistant, but soon her lips softened, her arms looping around his neck as she rose to her tip toes. She tasted of mint toothpaste, and something intrinsically Taryn. He drew her lush body closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue twining with hers in a sensual battle.

He moved ever closer, his lips coming from hers to kiss the soft skin under her jaw. A soft moan escaped her mouth, kindling a rush of electricity through his veins. Neither felt, or minded the cold. The heat that was building between them seemed sufficient enough to warm them despite the chill in the air.

His mouth rose to claim hers once more, his hand rising from her waist and slipping under the hem of her coat and sweater. She jumped and shivered at the touch of his cold hand against her warmed flesh.

"Get a room!" a voice suddenly shouted at them.

They broke apart, turning to look at a group of first years passing by. The group dissolved into giggles.

"We can take this somewhere else," Draco said, his voice slightly raspy from passion, the hand raising to cup her chin and rubbing his thumb against her kiss swollen bottom lip. He wanted very much for her to agree, but he wouldn't force her. It would be entirely her choice.

Taryn's brow crinkled with indecision, and he was just about to give her an out, when her face cleared. "I have a roommate...It will have to be your room."

* * *

AN: A note on Madame Rosmerta: She is described as an attractive blonde witch in the novels and isn't as old as the actress that portrays her in the films. I kind of see her as maybe thirty-one or thirty-two. In real life I don't think that its okay for a grown woman to go after a sixteen year old guy, but in Wizarding society Draco is nearly grown, so it isn't _as_ squicky. And, yeah, if Draco had really wanted it, Rosmerta would have totally hooked up with him, lol.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

"….._It will have to be your room_."

Her softly murmured words echoed in his mind. While he was glad that she was taking him up on his offer, he hadn't actually expected her to agree so easily.

Tilting his head to the side in contemplation, he gazed at her a moment, before reaching for the barrette that secured her hair into a looped topknot. Pulling the barrette from her hair allowed the thick mass to fall around her shoulders in shiny cinnamon hued waves.

He loved her hair.

He laced his fingers through the silken strands, before lowering his hand to trace her jawline.

"Are you sure about this Taryn?" His grey eyes, now smoky with passion, regarded her intently.

His hand had slipped under the hem of her coat and jumper, and was softly tracing the skin there. The chill of his hand, combined with the warmth of her skin was startling, sending delicious shivers down her spine. No, she wasn't sure that this was the right time, but she was sure that she wanted him. Despite everything, she wanted him.

"I'm sure," she said licking suddenly dry lips.

His eyes zeroed in on the action, and it was all he could do not to draw her back into his arms to kiss her once more. The only thing that stopped him was the cold and the public area. It wouldn't do for another pack of first years to walk upon them again. Not that he was against shagging outside, but the cold did present a problem.

"Okay, love," he said, the endearment slipping past his lips. He immediately wanted to call it back, but it was already out. Instead he turned around, and they began to make their way back toward the castle entrance.

The hallways were deserted. Most of the student population had taken advantage of their Saturday to sleep in or to pursue other activities. For the younger students the draw of snow, fodder for snowball fights, was too much of a draw.

Because of the emptiness of the usually crowded halls, when Draco put his arm around her shoulders as they walked she took advantage, wrapping an arm around his lean waist, inhaling his warm woodsy scent.

She forced down the surge of nervousness that wanted to push its way past her resolve, concentrating on the feel of his hand tracing through her hair, playing with the strands.

Finally they reached Serpent Hall, whose common room was as blessedly empty of people as the Slytherin common room.

Draco opened his door, by way of a silent password spell, and stood in the doorway a moment looking back at her. This was her last chance to back out gracefully. He wanted her to be absolutely sure that she wanted this, because to be honest, he didn't think he would be able to go back to the way that they were before. That first kiss had been scorching, imprinting itself on his very bones.

She paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath before walking through the door. She had made the decision to push all hesitation behind. She was of the firm belief that if you were going to do something, well, it was worth doing correctly.

The door closed behind her and she shifted, looking back at the doorway, before turning back to Draco.

The heat of his gaze sent a fever through her, and she even she was a little amazed herself when she closed the distance between him, drawing his lips to hers. She thrilled at the growl that escaped his lips, before he took over the kiss, deepening it, turning it into something hungry and passionate.

His hand rose to cup her jaw, as his mouth devoured hers, possessing her like she was water to his parched throat.

He trailed soft kisses down her throat, pushed the collar of her shirt aside to kiss the sensitive skin where her shoulder began. With a frustrated growl, he began to unbutton her shirt, desperate to get the garment from her soft skin.

Taryn trembled at the intensity of his reaction to her. Her previous experiences with boys were rather tame. A stolen snog or two from Viktor Krum hadn't prepared her for Draco Malfoy. Draco inflamed her senses in a way that she hadn't expected. She was entirely out of her depth, but damned if she wasn't enjoying it. Enjoying him.

He was just so blisteringly hot.

He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, and the kiss that he laid against her shoulder as he lowered a strap caused her to quiver with want, heat pooling between her legs.

When he moved away from her, she bit her lip to keep from calling him back.

He was shrugging out of his jacket, pulling the grey shirt over his head and mussing his platinum locks.

Her breath escaped on a soft gasp. She had known that his was fit, but bloody hell, he could moonlight as a model. His broad shoulders led to a perfectly sculpted chest and washboard abs that she couldn't help but want to trail her fingers over.

"C'mere," he said huskily, popping the button on his jeans.

She hesitated. She was ready, but she found that it wasn't as easy as she thought, despite the fact that he inflamed her, to push past _all_ her inhibitions. She instinctively knew that he wouldn't let her hide behind walls, that he would wring every bit of pleasure from her that her body could spare.

When she didn't move he walked forward, hooking his fingers in her waistband and pulling her back into his arms to lay another kiss to her lips. They both moaned at the skin to skin contact. His kisses grew feverish and he became impatient, pushing down her skirt and the knickers with it. He broke the kiss for a moment, and she took the momentary lapse to toe off her shoes watching him as he did the same.

She squeaked when he swung her into his strong arms, crossing the room and lowering her down to the couch.

She watched as he stepped out of his jeans, and pulled down his boxer briefs, and finally she got a glimpse of what had been pressing so insistently against her.

Her eyes widened, taking in the sight of his thick length. She bit her lip, sitting up, and reaching out to trace a hand over his hip before touching his cock.

He hissed in a breath as he watched her trace his skin, her touch at first tentative, then growing more bold.

"Fuck," he breathed as her gaze locked with his as she stroked him, her hand moving up and down firmly, before rubbing a thumb across the head.

She drew her bottom lip in, teeth biting into the soft flesh as she seemed to consider something. A pearly drop of liquid had formed on the tip of his cock, and her blue eyes rose and connected with his for a blinding, electric moment before she leaned forward and licked it away.

"Shit, baby," he groaned.

She was so fucking sexy. She jumped a bit when his hand grasped her wrist stopping her. He didn't want this to end quickly, and if she didn't stop, he didn't think he'd last.

He sank to his knees before her, kissing the soft skin of her stomach, his lips sliding up her skin until he reached her breasts. He drank in her breathy moans of pleasure as his tongue laved the nipple of her right breast, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the left.

"Oh my God," Taryn gasped squirming, biting her lip in bliss, her eyes drifting close.

His mouth trailed back down to her stomach, his tongue darting into her navel, before continuing lower. He kissed the soft skin of her thighs, breathing in her scent. Her grabbed her right leg, pulling it over his shoulder. She screamed softly when his mouth grazed her nub, tasting, teasing her.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," she chanted, her eyes flying open. She shivered, her face flushing hotly at the sight of his head between her thighs. Her hand reached down, seemingly of his own accord to lace into his soft hair.

He reached to run his hand over her glistening folds, slipping two fingers inside, in and out, in and out, mimicking the rhythm of sex.

Her panting breaths grew quicker, and he gave her one last slow lick before he sat back on his knees, watching her intently. His rhythm was ceaseless. He wanted to watch her fly apart. She tensed, her back arching, as he literally threw her into an orgasm. He watched every quiver as she shattered, shivering in boneless satiation.

He pressed a soft kiss against her lips before picking her up. Her legs twinned around his hips as he switched their position, sitting down into the sofa and settling her on top on him.

"Come on baby. This is your show now," he said softly, grinding against her.

Taryn followed instinct, raising to position him and then slowly lowering herself down onto his length. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as he slowly filled her.

She moved experimentally gasping out a moan at the pleasurable fullness. She began to move in slow circles, hiccuping moans and unintelligible words escaping her with each rotation. He sat up, pushing his length deeper, his mouth crashed into hers, kissing her thoroughly, staking a primitive claim.

She leaned forward, resting her hands on his shoulders, fingers clutching his sweat slicked skin, as her movements became more frantic.

The feel of her clasping him strongly, was amazing, she was so tight and wet. His eyes squeezed shut at the sensation.

"Oh, shit, oh fuck, oh my god, ahhh," Taryn breathed as she began to move faster, her pleasured screams ringing through the room, bouncing off the stone walls.

The curse words escaping her mouth, the fact that he had fucked her past all inhibitions, inflamed his scenes. He felt her contract around him, and he grasped her hips, taking over, driving himself into her faster, deeper. He leaned forward taking her mouth in a desperate, open kiss.

Suddenly she stiffened against him, her mouth ripping away with a scream, as she climaxed. Her shuddering contractions, tipped him over the edge, wringing everything from him and he came hard with a groan. He hugged her to him, his face buried in the crook of his neck, his hands softly grazing the skin of her back.

Their heavy breaths had just began to calm when a thought broke through his pleasure fogged mind. "Fuck!" he blurted unthinkingly.

Taryn jumped. "What?" she asked, grimacing a bit at the sensitivity of the connection they still shared.

He slowly separated their bodies, swinging her into his arms once more and mounting the steps to his bedroom.

She watched him murmur a quiet wandless spell – he knew wandless magic! – and the comforter and sheet folded back upon itself.

Lying her on the bed, and getting in besides her, he finally spoke. "I forgot protection," he said quietly.

She laughed – she bloody laughed!

"I don't think this is funny," Draco said pushing back panic. He wasn't ready to be a father! He wasn't father material. He'd had a shitty father for an example. What could he offer a kid?

He frowned darkly, as she moved closer, snuggling into his side.

"Don't worry about that," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face into the warm skin of his neck. "Do you really think I would've came here if I hadn't already thought of that? I got anti-pregnancy and STD charms at the beginning of the year," she said in matter of fact tone.

"Why?" Draco said in a suddenly jealous tone. He was surprised at himself. While he was happy that she was covered, and he believed her, he wondered why she had gotten it already. Was she interested in another bloke?

He suddenly felt insecure, and it wasn't something he was used to, especially regarding women.

Taryn rolled her eyes. "Because of you of course," she said cuddling even closer to him, her hand tracing the muscles of his chest.

"Oh," Draco said, mollified. Then he realized what he had revealed. Shit, he thought, I can't have her thinking that I have _feelings_ for her. Draco most decidedly did not do the girlfriend thing, however, he didn't think this was the best time to let _her_ know that.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

* * *

She had her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he slept, his arm cradling her. Pushing her hair away from her face, she slowly, reluctantly, slipped away from his warmth.

She didn't want to think about how good, how _right _it had felt to be held by him. In fact, she forcibly pushed all of those thoughts away, and decided to pull a Scarlett O'Hara. She'd think about it later.

Right now, she didn't have much time to snoop, and she couldn't trust that he would remain unaware of her activities. She didn't know how deep a sleeper he was.

All of her clothes were strewn across his living room floor, and she would be damned if she snooped in the nude. Walking over to his large chest of drawers, she pulled out the first, finding only socks. In the second drawer were neatly folded tee-shirts, most of them black. Shivering with chill, she pulled out the first one her hand touched, pulling the long sleeved black shirt over her head. Pulling the dark fabric to her nose, she breathed in his now familiar scent.

Steeling her resolve, she finally took the time to look around the room. The bedroom, as well as the rest of the rooms, were done in a calm blue tones, with gray accents.

It wasn't at all what she had expected his room to look like. She had been sure that it would be decorated in black, silver, and Slytherin green, but was surprised to note that the room was actually _pleasant_.

She noticed two doors in the room, and since all of the rooms in Serpent Hall had the same basic layout, she knew that it wasn't a bathroom. That room was located downstairs, just off to the left of the staircase.

She frowned. Draco had _two_ closets? Maybe he was even more of a clothes horse than Tracey had been? A few weeks ago she would have thought so, but now after getting to know him a bit better, she wasn't as sure of her assumptions.

She quietly turned the knob the first door, where she found a selection of school clothes: the requisite black robes, ties, sweater vests, and dark trousers. Then came a selection of casual items like jeans, tee-shirts, and a couple jackets. Pushed to the back of the large closet, like and afterthought were more more expensive garments, the one's that she was used to him wearing in previous years. A dark blazer pushed to the very back was the last thing in the closet, and she pulled it out by the hanger. There was something in the inside pocket. Fishing inside the silk lined pocket she found a wallet – a Muggle wallet! Her brow crinkled in confusion. Wizards didn't carry wallets. Most carried coin pouches that held the coins that made up wizard money.

This was a standard black wallet, nothing special about it, other than the fact that it was a Muggle item and Draco obviously felt the need to hide it.

Opening it, the first thing she saw was a Muggle driver's license. Draco had a Muggle license? It was obviously his. The picture matched his handsome face, but the name said Ryu Kovalic. Ryu? Kovalic? It also stated that he was twenty-one years old. The code on his license said A. What did code A mean? Peeling the license from the clear sleeve, she flipped it over. A was for a motorcycle. _Draco Malfoy_ drove a motorcycle? Slipping the license back into its sleeve, she next noted the stack of Muggle money – which wasn't unusual in and of itself. Many of the younger generations carried both types of money just in case of emergency, though it was usually not more than a twenty pound note. She quickly counted the money. One thousand pounds. She shoved the money back into the wallet, and quickly stepped back out of the closet.

A muffled sound made her freeze in place. Darting a quick glance at Draco, she saw that he was still asleep – he had merely turned over, the covers slipping down to his waist and revealing his muscular back –, and blew out a sigh of relief.

She paused, looking at the completely sensual picture he made for far too long before she snapped back to the business at hand. Merlin she hoped he wouldn't wake up. She didn't want to have to explain why she was nosing around in his closets. She had to hurry.

Taryn walked over to the other closet and tried the knob. She jiggled the knob, but found it locked. The mild interest she had had over the second closet turned into full blown curiosity.

She wanted to run downstairs and grab her wand to spell the door open, but she didn't think that she would be able to search the room further without waking him. She sighed in defeat, heading downstairs to find her clothes. She blushed at the sight of her knickers on the floor. Her bra was MIA. Thankfully she wasn't overly busty, so she'd be able to dart to her room sans bra. She snatched up her knickers, pulling on the scrap of lace quickly.

Finding her wand in her coat pocket, she wrapped her hair into a bun, using the wand to secure the heavy mass. Her hair clip was probably buried somewhere under snow beside the castle, and wasn't important enough to go searching for.

She pulled her skirt up her legs, gathered the rest of her clothes into her arms, and stuffed her feet into her boots. Opening the portrait door slowly, she looked both left and right before stepping out into the hall.

Thank Merlin Serpent Hall was set apart from the rest of the House, and was momentarily empty of people.

Walking to her the portrait door of her own room, she entered with a murmured "Pitt".

"Busted!"

Taryn almost jumped a foot into the air at Chase's amused voice.

He was lounging on the couch, a book in his hand, his mouth wearing a grin.

"I was just..." Taryn began.

"Just coming from Draco's room?" Chase finished slyly.

"Um...well..." Taryn tried to come up with a good excuse, but looking down at her ridiculous attire she gave up.

"Yeah...okay...but don't tell anyone," she pleaded. She wasn't ready for people to know, especially not before she had the time to think over what she felt about what had happened.

Chase frowned. "Of course I wouldn't tell anyone. I'm your friend Taryn. The friend that isn't even upset that you missed yoga today."

Taryn slapped a palm against her head. "Oh, yeah! I'm sorry about that, I really intended to come but..."

"But you got wrapped in in His Royal Hotness," Chase finished, chuckling.

She raised a brow at the term. "I don't think that Ollie would appreciate you ogling my...er..."

"Your lover?" Chase grinned. "And I can look as long as I don't touch. Ollie wouldn't mind. But really, stop trying to distract me. I wanna know. How was it?" He leaned forward, gazing at her in question.

Taryn raised his legs, scooting under them, and letting them rest on her lap, as she leaned back against the soft cushions with a sigh. "Let me just say that the rumors about him _definitely_ have a basis in fact."

Even though he was dead sexy, Taryn had thought that the rumors about Draco were probably greatly exaggerated. Most of the girls that said they were with him _had_ to be lying. _No_ man had the stamina to shag that many witches.

Now, even though it probably had to do with the fact that it was her first time, she had to admit that he definitely knew what he was doing. Only one thing troubled her. The fact was that he hadn't just shagged her. He'd made potent love to her.

Twice they had come together. The first time had desperate, and hungry. They both hadn't been able to wait. All of their interactions: the arguments, the looks they'd shared, the ones that they'd avoided, had all let to the frenzied encounter.

It was the second time that lingered in her mind. He had slowly consumed her, unraveling then remaking her with pleasure. She hadn't thought that he was going to be such a considerate lover. She didn't think that most teen boys, not that she'd a lot of experience with them, were so meticulous –so caring – with the way they made love.

Honestly, she didn't think that she could have had a better first time, unless there had been love involved. She hadn't expected that emotion to be present, so all in all, it had been a good experience. While she had always wanted to be in love with the first man that she had sex with, she had to be honest with herself. She had wanted Draco as much as he had wanted her. The things that she had done with him brought a hot flush to her cheeks.

"Really?" Chase was saying, looking contemplative. "He just looks like he would be...whoo...you know, dynamite in bed."

Taryn blew out a breath. "He was...," she covered her face with her hands, "he was just...oh my God." She lowered her hands with a surprising giggle.

"So, what now? Are you two together? Or was it just a one off? What did he say? You know, like, after?"

"We didn't really do much talking. After the second time..."

"Second time?"

Taryn rolled her eyes. "After the second time," she continued, "We both fell asleep. I woke up before he did, and got dressed and left."

"Wearing his shirt," Chase said, noting the bagginess of the shirt she wore, before laughing out loud. "You _snuck_ out?"

"I didn't really want the awkward morning after conversation," Taryn said sheepishly.

"It isn't actually morning," Chase said looking at his watch, "In fact, its almost time for dinner."

Taryn slapped his shoulder playfully. "You know what I mean. But you are right. I need to shower and then get something to eat. I'm starving!"

"Well...you were working up an appetite," Chase said added, laughing at the look she sent him.

"Shut up!" she said in mock anger.

"You set it up perfectly, I couldn't help it," he said between chuckles.

Taryn rolled her eyes again, mounting the stairs to grab some clothes before heading back downstairs to the shower. In the mirror she examined her face. She didn't look different. It was strange how differently you could feel inside, and look exactly the same outside. She stepped out of her skirt and knickers, before pulling the black shirt over her head. She was about to pull the wand out of her hair, when she noticed the small purplish bruise right above the swell of her breast. He'd given her a hickey! She had never expected that first hickey she received would be from Draco Malfoy. She pushed down a thread of excitement, and frowned. She didn't even _know_ a spell to get rid of it. Thank Merlin, she thought, that it would be covered by her shirt.

Pulling the wand from her hair, she stepped into the shower, washing her hair, and soaping and rinsing her body quickly. Drying off quickly, she dressed in a denim skirt and a deep pink shirt. She dried her hair with a quick spell, still marveling on the fact that her hair didn't turn into a frizz ball, before braiding it and securing the end with an elastic.

"Are you going to dinner?" she asked Chase, while slipping on her shoes.

"Yeah, I'll go down with you. You will probably need the support," Chase said quietly.

"Support? Why?" Taryn asked frowning.

"You might be used to blending into the crowd, but Draco's long absence is going to be noted."

"I can deal with scrutiny," she said scowling as she remembered the microscope she had been under during her fourth year. If they weren't gossiping about her alleged relationship with Harry, they were whispering about what they thought that she was doing with Viktor Krum.

"I bet you get your fair amount as Nigel Davis's daughter," Chase said knowingly, "But I just want you to know that I have your back. Its going to be different dealing with a bunch of catty bitches. They are going to come for you. The girls that he was with, and the girls that wished he'd gotten with them."

Taryn considered this. "Well they better be ready then, because I won't be pulling my punches. They can get what Pansy got."

"Well, this is going to be interesting to say the least," Chase said as they left the room.

* * *

Draco's hand reached over for Taryn, his eyes opening when he found only an empty space.

"Taryn?" he called out, sitting up and stretching his arms with a yawn. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep with her there. That had never happened to him before. He knew it didn't say much about him, but after a shag he was usually ready to leave, or have the girl leave. It seemed that everything with Taryn wasn't going necessarily go by his usual rule book, and he wasn't sure what he thought about that.

When he didn't hear her call back, or any telltale sounds signaling that she was still in the rooms, he assumed that she had left. While he was glad that he could postpone the "no girlfriend" speech, it confused him that he was kind of pissed that she had already left.

Looking at the clock, he pushed back the covers and went downstairs to take a quick shower, before dressing quickly for dinner.

When he reached the main Common Room, he found Blaise Zabini was sitting alone on one of the low couches. He figured that everyone else had already made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner.

"You on your way to dinner?" the wizard asked Draco.

"Yeah," Draco said, his eyes scanning the room for Taryn. He inwardly frowned at himself. What did he expect? That she was hiding under one of the bloody couches?

"I'll walk down with you then mate," Blaise said standing. They made their way toward the Great Hall quietly for a moment before Blaise said slyly, "So, news travels fast."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, looking at the other boy.

"Well, I heard that you were seen snogging Taryn Davis against the castle wall," Blaise said smirking.

Shit, Draco thought. News did travel too bloody fast. "Why are people so fucking interested in what I'm doing," he asked angrily.

"Hey, man. I'm just telling you what I heard. Congrats, mate. I know that you've been working on that hot little piece for awhile now. How was she? I know she's a half-blood, but I might consider getting into those knickers when you're done with her," Blaise said.

Draco didn't think, he just snapped, grabbing Blaise by the neck and slamming him into the wall. "Don't fuckin' talk about her that way. If I ever hear..."

"Fuck..." Blaise wheezed, gasping out the word past the tight grip on his throat. "Sorry man. I won't try anything, I swear."

Draco slowly peeled his fingers from the other boy's neck, stepping back. Blaise slid down the wall in a heap.

He hadn't drawn his wand, he had instinctively used force. It was something that he never would have done before at school. What the fuck was wrong with him? He hadn't truly lost his temper like that in years. He had had to forcibly hold himself back from doing more damage to the other boy.

Blaise's hand rose up rubbing his throat, as he drew in air to his deprived lungs. "You're fucking crazy. What is your problem Malfoy?" he asked hoarsely, before turning on his heel and striding away from the other wizard.

Draco didn't know how to answer him. He should be in a better mood. He had just shagged a beautiful witch. Dumbledore was going to be dead soon if everything went correctly. His mother would be safe. Instead he felt like his world was more off kilter than ever.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

* * *

Draco walked into the Great Hall, his gaze scanning the room warily. He noted Blaise Zabini sitting beside Pansy, both glaring at him in anger.

His looked over them, he wasn't concerned with them at the moment, and his gaze settled unerringly on Taryn, who was sitting with her roommate.

Judging by the whispers that followed him as he advanced on the Slytherin table, his tussle with Blaise was already making the rounds. Pushing down is anxiety, he shrugged his shoulders and moved forward to sit next to Crabble and Goyle, who were sitting, unfortunately, across from Pansy.

"So, I hear you like dirty little half-bloods now," Pansy said, her voice ringing across the table. Silence immediately blanketed the table, as interested eyes landed on Draco.

Chase, who was sitting further down the table with Taryn, nudged his friend nodding his head to the conversation that everyone was most interested to hear.

"How is that any of your business?" Draco asked quietly, his hand reaching forward for a glass of pumpkin juice. Sipping the sweet beverage he waited for her response.

"Not my business?" Pansy sputtered. "What is wrong with you? You accost Blaise in the corridor. You're shagging half-bloods," gasps flew across the table at this, "and you don't have time for your real friends."

"You really want to do this here, Pansy?" Draco wasn't one to air all of his business in public, but it seemed that Pansy wasn't going to give him a choice. He looked down at the first years. He didn't want to say what he was going to have to in front of the younger kids, but they _were_ Slytherin after all. It wasn't like they didn't hear things that were far worse in Slytherin House everyday. Slytherin students had to build tough skins rather quickly.

He didn't glance down at Taryn, but if he had he would have seen her slowly reddening in both embarrassment and anger.

"Why not? If it isn't true then you don't have anything to hide, and if it is, well everyone already knows," Pansy said archly.

"Right then," Draco said pushing his juice away. "I'm tired of your shit, Pansy. You're angry because one: I'm not fucking _you_ anymore, and two: because I didn't cave and ask you to marry me."

Many of the girls, most of which hated Pansy with a passion, laughed out in pure glee at the drama that was unfolding.

Pansy stood, trembling with anger. "You would choose that...that inferior little bitch over me? My family is perfectly Pureblood, right down to the start of the Parkinson line. My bloodline is impeccable. You can't possibly want her over me."

Draco chucked in derision. She wasn't even mad about what he'd said. She was more insulted that he had chosen someone that she considered inferior over her.

"You're making it sound like what we had was far more important than it actually was," he said looking at her, as one brow rose.

"I was your girlfriend for nearly a year! We lost our virginity to each other!" She screeched.

Her voice had risen high enough to reach the high table. Professor Snape quietly left his seat, and began to walk to his house table, black robes billowing.

The other house tables were also listening avidly to the proceedings, ears perked for any juicy little tidbit.

Draco leaned back a bit, his arms crossing over his chest. "I wasn't a virgin when we shagged Pansy."

"What? But you said– ," she began.

"I never said, you assumed," he returned, "Really Pansy? Why pretend? You and I both know exactly what it was and if I remember correctly it didn't take you long to find a replacement."

"You utter bastard!" Pansy screamed.

By then Snape had reached the table and was standing directly behind Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, none of us want to know any more aspects of your private life. The Great Hall is not the place to air your grievances with Mr. Malfoy. I expect more from the both of you. As prefects your are held to a higher standard. You will both report for detention with Filch on Monday afternoon directly after classes."

"But sir, that isn't fair, he..." Pansy sputtered.

"I didn't ask you your opinion on what is fair, Miss Parkinson. Ten points from Slytherin for your very public outburst, and ten additional points for your backtalk." Snape said, his voice quietly menacing. Turning to Draco he added, "Ten points for engaging with Miss Parkinson. Stand up, Mr. Malfoy, and come with me."

Draco gave a quick gaze of longing at the food laden table, before standing with a sigh to follow Snape from the Great Hall and down several corridors to an empty classroom.

"Do you have any idea what you are doing Draco?" Snape hissed once he had spelled the door against eavesdroppers.

"She was the one who started..." Draco began.

"Not that, you silly boy," Snape said watching Draco bristle at being called a boy, "I mean the Katie Bell incident."

"What Katie Bell incident? " Draco asked in confusion. The only things he knew about Katie Bell were that she was a Gryffindor and a Chaser on her house's team.

"Katie Bell was brought to the castle earlier today in Hagrid's arms. She was in severe pain from a curse stemming from her handling a certain Opal Necklace. The only reason that she didn't die is because the necklace touched her only through a tiny hole in her glove. I had to work quickly just to remove the curse. Now, do you have any idea how she came by such an item?" Snape asked, voice low and indicating that _he_ knew exactly from where the necklace came.

"I don't know how she got it. She wasn't supposed to have it at all. I left instructions that..." Draco said, stopping when he realized how open he had worded his command. He couldn't believe that he had made such a mistake. He couldn't afford to make mistakes! He was furious with himself. He was now back to square one. He hadn't came up with plan B. He had thought his plan was foolproof. Rosmerta would deliver the necklace under one pretense or another, and Dumbledore would die. His mother would be safe, and he would be free from burden.

"Well, apparently your instructions were not sufficient enough to do the job! You are leaving me in a precarious position. While you spent your afternoon in more _pleasurable_ activities, I was covering your tracks and convincing the Dark Lord not to kill you for your failure. He is losing patience, but after my firm assurances, he has given you until the end of the year to complete your task. I don't have to tell you what will happen if Dumbledore isn't dead by the time the students board the Hogwarts Express," Snape said.

Draco breathed in a deep breath before stating solemnly. "He will be, sir."

Snape looked at him for one long moment, before nodding sharply. "Make sure that you report to detention on Monday. I don't want to hear anymore outbursts like that at the house table. You don't need any more attention I should think," he said, turning to the door and removing the spells before leaving Draco alone in the room with his thoughts.

* * *

Taryn forced herself to eat the rest of her meal, while several eyes burned holes into her back. She was riddled with embarrassment. Now, practically the entire school knew what she had been doing this afternoon. She had expected the scrutiny from her house members, but now that Pansy had aired the news to the entire school, it was now the juiciest piece of gossip around. People needed something to take their mind off of Voldemort, and Pansy had served her sex life up on a platter.

"Are you okay?" Chase asked quietly, concern evident in his voice. He had wanted to curse both Pansy and Draco, only Taryn's whispered plea not to act, and her hand against his forearm had stopped him.

"I'm fine," Taryn said in a clipped tone. She caught Chase's flinch. "I'm fine," she said repeated in a softer tone.

In truth, she was anything but fine. Apart from embarrassment, she was angry.

In fact, she was bloody furious. She couldn't line up the man that she had made love with, with the one that had coldly taunted Pansy. She didn't like Pansy one bit, but Draco's response to her had been harsh. The harsh response hadn't even been the worse part. Even worse was the fact that he had let Pansy call her a dirty half-blood without defending her!

Past her anger was thankfulness. She had felt tender feelings for Draco creeping into her heart, and while his cruelty hadn't erased them, it had made her much more wary. There were many sides to Draco Malfoy, and she'd come to the realization that she didn't understand him at all. He wasn't a book. He was a man with many layers, and she wasn't sure that she liked all the one that he had just revealed.

On the other hand was the way he'd made love to her. It seemed that in bed was the one place where he shed everything. She cold Malfoy exterior peeled away, leaving in its wake simply Draco the man. It was there were she would know him, but first she had to confront him about a few issues.

"Are you finished eating?" Taryn asked Chase quietly.

"Yeah, we can go now if you want," Chase replied, his gaze searching her face.

They both stood, and quickly walked away from the table.

Back in their room, Taryn quickly dressed in a pair of black stretchy shorts and some dance socks, over which donned a pair of pink sweats. She quickly picked out a black halter pulling in on quickly, before heading over to her dresser. She grabbed her pointe shoes, letting them hang from her hand by the ribbons. She threw a few items into a black case, before turning to Chase.

"I'm going to practice. I'll probably be gone a couple of hours," she said.

"Do you want to try some yoga?" Chase asked in concern, "It can be very relaxing."

Taryn managed a smile at her friend. "Thanks, but I don't think relaxation is what I need. I really need to let off some steam."

"Okay, then, I'll see you later," Chase said, frowning.

He watched sadly as his friend left the room. Taryn was being too quiet about what she was feeling, and it worried him. He had learned over the past month to leave her alone when she was upset. That she needed the time alone to gather her thoughts. Eventually she would come and talk if she thought that it would help.

…

Taryn walked down Serpent Hall and past the Common Room, ignoring the whispers that followed her. Her determined stride and pursed mouth discouraged even the the nosy busybodies from tying to stop and question her.

Slytherin house had so many rooms, even surprisingly a dance studio. Taryn had thought that she was going to have to practice in her room. Even though her room in Serpent Hall was bigger than her room at home, it was still a bit cramped for dancing.

The dance studio was of course painted in green, with a long antique mirror on one wall. There was an ancient radio sitting on a pedestal in the corner of the room, but she ignored this. Wizard radios didn't get the kind of stations that she wanted anyway.

She stripped the sweats away, piling them on the floor, and after thinking a moment, she pulled off her dance socks, placing them on top along with her pointe shoes. She didn't think she had the discipline today for pointe work. Instead, she decided to just move, to dance in whatever way the music steered her.

She pulled a CD out of her case, pointing her wand at it with a whispered, "Ludere." The disk lit with a small yellow light that hovered over the CD and began to spin as it worked.

She warmed up quickly, before her body began to work, moving in a fevered rhythm, trying to work away the anger that boiled in her veins.

* * *

After Draco worked past his thoughts, and his disappointment in himself, he decided to go find Taryn. He didn't know why her company seemed vital at that moment, and he didn't stop to question himself.

Back in Serpent Hall he knocked on her door, waiting a beat before the door was opened.

Chase sighed as he saw who was in his door. "She's not here," he said bluntly.

Draco was taken aback by the other boy's tone. He seemed...angry. Ignoring this, Draco asked just as bluntly, "Where is she?"

Chase debated a minute on whether or not to tell Draco where Taryn had gone. He knew that his decision might blow up in his face later, but he thought that both Draco and Taryn just needed a firm push. Both were crazy about the other, and both were too damn stubborn to realize it. "She's in the dance room."

Draco's brow rose. "Dance room?"

Chase sighed in disbelief. "Taryn _is_ a dancer. You really didn't know that? What the hell do you guys talk about?"

Draco blushed slightly in embarrassment. To be honest, they mostly argued. They really didn't know much about the other, other than the random facts that one learned about an acquaintance. He really couldn't even be mad about it. He hadn't known that she was a dancer, and he damn sure hadn't told her that he was a fighter. Their conversation was mostly school related, or conversation rife with innuendo and flirting. The one time they had been completely alone, with no threat of interruption, well, they had used that time for _other_ things.

"Never mind that. Thanks for the tip," he said, turning to walk away. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"I know that you could probably kill me if it came down to something physical, but I could wipe the floor with you when it comes to cursework. So I just want you to know, if you hurt my friend I'll make you regret it," Chase said, his voice deadly serious.

Draco looked at him for one long moment. He had heard that Chase was good at defensive spells, but the other wizard hadn't grown up with a Deatheater as a father. What he thought were defensive spells might work here in Hogwarts were there were certain _limitations,_ but the other boy had no idea of what Draco was really capable of, however, he did appreciate the sentiment. He was glad that he wasn't the only one looking out for Taryn.

"She's safe with me," was all Draco said in reply. He started to walk away before turning back. "Where is the dance room anyway?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Its four doors past the library."

Draco nodded his thanks.

Chase watched the boy walk away, heading directly for the dance studio. He pushed down a twinge of unease. Maybe Taryn was physically safe, but he wasn't sure that his friend was protected emotionally.

…

Draco watched her dance, his gaze riveted. Chase had said she was a dancer, but...she was an artist. Art in motion. He silently laughed at himself for his overly sensitive thoughts. Thank Merlin he was an accomplished Occlumens. He shuddered at the notion of his very confused thoughts being made public knowledge.

The music was so loud that she hadn't noticed him walking into the room. Either that, or she was totally immersed in dance, her movements graceful despite the anger that she was so obviously exercising away.

Draco understood anger. He lived with it everyday. Fighting was his only outlet, to drain away the excess emotion. It kept the flame of his anger from turning into wildfire, and instead maintained as carefully burning coals.

What confused him was the root of _her_ anger. He just didn't know why she was so angry. He should be the one that was pissed. She was the one that had left before _he_ woke. It wasn't like he had planned breakfast in bed or anything, but still.

Taryn finally noticed him leaning against the wall, watching her.

"What do you want?" she asked in irritation. She pushed a sweat dampened piece of hair that had escaped her bun from her face.

She frowned when he didn't answer her promptly.

"You can leave the same way you entered," she said, walking over to her case to pull out a water bottle, taking a drink from the chill container.

"Why didn't you tell me you danced?" Draco asked instead, making no move to leave.

"Why don't you tell me _anything_ about yourself?" she retorted. "Oh, I know why. Its because we don't talk about anything important. We argue and now we have sex. That is pretty much it," she said, pursing her lips.

Draco was taken aback. " I never made you any promises, and before now you haven't indicated that you wanted them. What do you expect from me Taryn?"

She went rigid for a moment, before grabbing her wand and murmuring a locking spell at the door. She turned back to Draco.

Obviously he wasn't going to leave her alone, so they were going to have this out. Even though she had locked the door she wasn't worried that anyone would interrupt them. The dance studio didn't have much traffic beyond her practicing and the occasional meetings of Chase's yoga group when he gathered enough people, so no one would be there to witness the hell she was about to reign on one Draco Malfoy.

"You asshole!," she said striding forward and punching him in the jaw with one small fist. She hissed, shaking her hand in pain. Merlin, his face was like stone! This made the second time that she had hit him, though he didn't know that. She vividly remembered the first time during their third year. He had deserved it then as well.

"What is your problem, woman?" Draco asked, rubbing his face with one hand. He couldn't believe that she had hit him! It really hadn't hurt, he had taken much harder hits in his life, but he was still amazed. Amazed and confused.

"My problem," she said her chest rising with angry breaths, "is that you you let that bitch, Pansy, call me a filthy half-blood in front of the entire school! And you didn't say anything! You want to know what I expect from you? I at least expect you to defend me."

She watched his brow crinkle. "I didn't realize...Taryn you have to understand. People expect certain things from me."

"So, you're a coward then?" she asked angrily.

Anger suffused his face. "Don't call me that! You have no idea of the things that make me the way I am, and you don't have the right to judge. You aren't my girlfriend!"

"I didn't ask to be!" she practically screamed.

"Then why are you acting like one?" His voice had risen to match hers.

"I don't know why I thought that this would be a good idea! What the hell was I thinking starting this with you?" Taryn said, almost to herself, talking about more than just the fact that they had had sex. Her plan was unraveling and she didn't know how to pick up the pieces.

She paced the room, not noticing Draco taking in her attire. He had noticed how little she was wearing in the back of his mind earlier, but he had been distracted by the beauty of her dance. Now he was distracted by how much of her body was showing. The tiny shorts and halter didn't leave much to the imagination, clearly outlining the curves of her body. He'd seen girls in much less, even at bouts the ring girls wore less, but they didn't affect him in the way Taryn was.

Draco strode forward, pulling her to him, ignoring her struggles. "Why? Because you knew that we would be combustible together. You knew just as I did, that it would be like this," he said before his mouth crashed down to hers.

Taryn moaned, before breaking away from his lips. "This doesn't change the fact that I'm still mad at you," she breathed against his mouth, as her hands were busily unbuckling his belt.

"Well, I'm not exactly pleased that you hit me in the face," Draco said smirking.

He peeled the halter over her head, and threw it to the floor, leaving her breasts bare. The rosy peaks of her breasts puckered in the slight chill of the room, and he couldn't resist the temptation. His mouth went down, drawing a nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth. Flicking his tongue against the bud, he reached a hand up to toy with other breast.

Taryn hand rose to his chest, slightly pushing him away. "Strip," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Draco said, smirking again. He quickly removed his remaining clothes, before glancing around the room. The floor was rather...hard. Not at all conducive to shagging. He spied a pile of mats against one wall.

He hoisted her into his arms, her legs twining around his waist as he walked them forward to the pile of mats.

"I'm not having sex with you on those mats," Taryn sated emphatically. Who knew what was on them? She shuddered at the thought of the germs that resided there.

"I got it," Draco said, pulling the wand out of her hair and casting a quick Scourgify on the mats.

Taryn was still dubious about the cleanliness of the mats, but the thought soon left her as his mouth covered hers again, tongue caressing hers, overwhelming her senses with his taste.

He set her down gently on the mats, his hands reaching down to pull the shorts away from her hips, before covering her once more with his body, threading his fingers through hers and raising her arms above her head.

He resumed kissing her, his lips hot and feverish against hers. She drew in his scent, loving the deep woodsy smell, the thump of the music almost drowning out her moans as he once more turned his attention to her breasts, palming the mounds gently, before grazing his hand down her ribs.

Pulling her left leg higher on his hip, he slid inside her in one deep thrust, his hips moving rhythmically as he surged within her again and again.

She gasped into his mouth, only slightly hearing him as he chanted her name like a benediction.

"More," she moaned unashamedly, her hands raking his back as she arched against him with a sob of pleasure.

"Shit," he hissed, his hips moving faster. She was burning him up. He was surprised that the mats hadn't caught fire. His hips danced into hers, as he drank in her small cries of pleasure.

When felt her contract around him, her scream of pleasure barely drowned by the music, he focused on himself, pistoning inside her fiercely before coming with a low growl.

He breathed deeply for a moment, before separating them and flipping over taking his much heavier weight from her.

He reclined for a second before sitting up at the sting in his back.

Taryn glanced at his back, wincing when she saw the damage her nails had made said, "Shit, Draco I'm sorry." She leaned over to kiss the skin at his shoulder.

He smiled. "Its nothing. I barely feel it...Don't worry about it love," he said before lying down again and pulling her to him, her head resting on his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said in the sudden silence of the room as the song ended.

She raised her head, and looked into his eyes. Blue into grey. She knew that he was apologizing for not defending her. "Its okay."

"No, its not," he said, "You deserve better than this. Merlin, Taryn, I don't know what I'm doing with you. I don't know where we stand," he said.

His voice revealed an insecurity that she had never heard from him before. She was beginning to feel...wrong about what she was doing.

Her determination regarding her plan was starting to wane. She no longer wanted to use him in this way, but she didn't know how else she was going to help Harry. She felt her new purpose draining away and now she was at loose ends. She loved her friends, but she was...reluctant...about hurting Draco. She knew, intuitively, that she now had that power. The power to hurt him, and it scared her.

Instead of answering his unasked question she said, "Let me fix your back," and murmured a quiet Episkey pointing her wand at the scratches, before lying back in his arms.

* * *

Snape was in his quarters brooding.

He was bound by his Unbreakable Vow, and Draco wasn't making it easy. He had promised Narcissa that he wouldn't tell Draco about the vow, a regular promise, and while he wanted to keep that promise, he was finding it difficult. Especially when the boy persisted in his idiotic plans to kill Dumbledore.

It was almost as if the boy didn't really want it finished. He had to know that his mother's safety hinged on the successful murder of Albus Dumbledore, but Snape didn't think that Draco had the stomach for murder.

On another matter, Snape thought that he had an idea on who had fathered Draco. The theories that had been forming in his mind as soon as he heard Narcissa's story had been crazy. At least he had thought so at first.

There were only a few creatures that could successfully fool a fully matured witch, not to mention getting past the plethora of charms and wards on Malfoy Manor. Wards that had been in place for centuries. It would have taken an awesome amount of power, as well as a certain disregard for rules, to bypass the security.

If Draco's father was who or what he thought he was, then Narcissa and Draco had more to worry about than a visit to Azkaban.

If what he thought was correct, Voldemort would want use the boy, draining him, until he was nothing but a husk blowing in the wind.

If he could get Draco on the right side he might have just stumbled upon a resolution to all of their problems. A solution that could help turn the tide in this war.

He walked over to a shelf of his personal library, pulling down a huge dusty tome.

On the cover of the heavy brown leather bound book were the words Фольклор и бестиарий etched in gold.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

* * *

"So what really happened that day with Blaise?" Taryn asked. She was on her knees, her head on her arms resting on the back of Draco's couch, watching as he cooked at the stove. Her eyes traveled down his lean form, which was only clothed in black boxer briefs. She shook herself – there was probably drool on her mouth! – getting back to the question at hand.

She had wanted to ask him that day, but they had gotten rather _sidetracked. _Also she hadn't wanted to upset the delicate balance they'd achieved. She had heard all of the rumors – no one had hesitated to give her their opinion – but she wanted to know his side of the story. After their somewhat tenuous ceasefire she felt that she could question him about the subject.

It had been three weeks since their "confrontation" in the dance studio, and while they still hadn't defined what they were, both knew that they were _something_. They now didn't pretend that they didn't want to spend time with each other. Taryn, when not studying or dancing, could often be found in Draco's room. It wasn't always sexual – though it often still was – now they just enjoyed each others company. They could even just sit in companionable silence, not needing to fill the air with empty words.

Whispers had followed them for days after Pansy's less than subtle freak out in the Great hall, but they had eventually died down when everyone began to realize that the couple wasn't going to let it bother them.

Taryn knew that Draco had feelings for her, she knew that he was confused, but he couldn't be any more confused than she was. She grimaced remembering how...unemotional...her decision to spy for Harry had been. She knew that it was partially because she was clinging to her former life and wanted to help her friend, but now she had to admit to herself that the reason that she wanted to stop was because she did care about Draco.

She wasn't sure of her exact feelings, but there was definitely something there. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when her feelings had started. They had crept up, sliding through her, and she wasn't absolutely sure about what she wanted to do about them.

One thing that she was sure about was that she couldn't continue her previous plan of action. She didn't have the heart for it, and she now realized that she probably had never had it to begin with. Now, though, _feelings_ were putting her in an awkward position. She could no longer blithely throw Draco to the wolves, instead she wanted to help him _and_ Harry and she had no bloody idea how to go about achieving that.

She knew that Draco was dealing with something. She knew he had secrets but she really couldn't fault him for them. She had secrets as well. She couldn't even bloody tell him who she actually was, and she really wasn't sure if she wanted to. He had had rather decided feelings about Hermione Granger, and if he found out that that was who she actually was, well she was afraid of what his reaction would be. He didn't realize it, but he was getting to know _her_, not Tracey Davis. Or at least the mash up of Hermione Granger and Tracey Davis that she had become. The thing was, she didn't act any differently apart from her new found love of dance. She was essentially the same girl. It was almost amusing that the things that he had disliked in Hermione Granger, he found _cute _in Taryn Davis.

On the other hand, it both amused and pissed her off that she was jealous of herself. She knew that he was attracted to _this_ face, _this_ body, and though she tried not to, she couldn't help but think that it wouldn't be the same if she was in her own skin.

Draco stiffened. "I didn't like what he said about you," he admitted reluctantly. He checked the bread in the oven, pulling it out to cool, before moving to a cabinet and grabbing two bowls for the soup he had prepared.

"What did he say?" Taryn asked, moving to the fridge to grab two bottles of spring water.

"He just said some things about you that I didn't like. Shit, like, when I was done I should pass you to him. I didn't really 'accost' him like Pansy said. He really got off easy," Draco said dishing up the soup into the bowls before placing the bowl on a plate and adding a roll next to it.

Back on the couch, Taryn was sitting a pillow on her lap, her plate balanced on top. She was slightly amazed. Draco _had_ defended her after all. It was a direct contradiction to what he had said earlier. Noticing his slightly uncomfortable look, she turned her attention to the bowl.

"What is this called again?" she asked dubiously.

"Moqueca de Peixe. Its a fish stew. The bread is a cheese roll called Pao de Queijo. Some people eat it around breakfast time, but I like to serve it with dinner. Just try it, I promise I'm not trying to poison you," he grinned.

"This is pretty good," she said taking a spoonful of soup, "I'm still surprised that you can cook, and amazed that its something more than a sandwich and crisps. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"I have a friend that likes to cook. He taught me how to prepare a few different dishes. I've said before that there are a lot of things that you don't know about me," Draco said, smiling lazily at her.

"Maybe I want to know more," Taryn said. She knew that it was true. She was insanely curious about him.

In the awkward beat behind her statement, she grabbed her roll, pulling apart the tender bread and taking a bite. She closed her eyes in pleasure at the taste of the bread.

Draco watched in amusement as she devoured the bread and most of her soup, all before he had even finished half of his. The girl ate like a bloke! It was refreshing, a far cry from watching girls like Pansy pick at a salad.

"What?" Taryn asked looking at him as he stared.

"Nothing," he said shaking his head a little, as he turned his attention back to his own food.

Looking at the clock, Taryn stood and walked her dishes to the sink. She quickly washed them and placed them on the drain to dry. "I should probably go now. Its getting pretty late."

"You can stay if you want," Draco said.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Taryn replied. She was tired, and she wasn't sure if she could keep her hands off of him if she stayed. They had been spending a great deal of time together but she hadn't slept over since that first night. It seemed far too – intimate – waking up in his arms, sleep mussed and content.

"We don't have to do anything. We can just sleep," Draco said. He couldn't believe that he was asking a girl to merely _sleep_ over, but he was reluctant to let her leave. And it wasn't like they hadn't shagged on just about every available surface in his rooms. It seemed a bit silly to him that she didn't want to sleep over.

"I don't have any of my things over here," she hedged. It was a last ditch effort to resist him. She didn't even wear her own clothes usually while she was in his room. Most of the time her clothes ended up on the floor and she spent the rest of her time naked or lounging around in one of Draco's shirts. She had consciously made the choice not to move any of her clothes over, thinking that it would make her resolve to spend nights in her own room easier. She frowned. It wasn't working it seemed.

"You can borrow one of my tee-shirts like usual," Draco said, pouncing on her statement. At her sharp look he added, "And a pair of sweats." She didn't realize that she was weakening, and he was just Slytherin enough to take advantage. Besides the sweats would be huge on her and she'd take them off, he was sure.

"Okay," she said, "but I'm going across the hall to tell Chase that I'm staying over. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes."

…

It was more like thirty minutes before she returned, and Draco had begun to think that she wasn't coming back after all. He had filled the time by taking a shower and washing and putting away his dishes and the pots and pans that he had used to prepare the meal.

He was sitting on the couch reading a book when he heard the soft knock at his door.

Opening the door; he at first noted that her hair was damp, obviously she had taken the time to shower as well, before he noticed her pajamas.

"Bunnies?" He grinned at the fluffy white creatures printed on her pajama bottoms and matching top.

"These are comfortable," she said, her voice defensive as she walked up the stairs to the bedroom. She'd chosen the least sexy pair pajamas that she owned. She was determined to just _sleep_. Without waiting for him she climbed into the far left edge of bed, pulling the thick comforter up to her neck.

Shrugging, Draco followed her. Oh, no, that won't do at all, he thought eying her as she laid as far from his side of the bed as she could. She stiffened a bit, then relaxed as he pulled her against him.

With a sigh, she nuzzled her feet against his and he jumped. "Shit, your feet are cold!"

"Sorry, I my feet get chilled easily," she said.

"Once your feet warm up you're going to get hot in that pajama top," Draco said sagely.

"I'll be fine," she insisted.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What do you have on under it?"

"Draco!"

"It's not like I haven't seen it all before, baby. Come on. What's under it?"

"A sports bra," she admitted.

"Hmmm. Okay," he raised up on his forearms.

She sighed in resignation as he began to unbutton the pajama top. He was right. The flannel top _would_ get hot. "You just like taking my clothes off," she accused, frowning a bit when he laughed.

"I thought that was pretty obvious. Really, though, I want you to be comfortable."

"Okay," she said grudgingly, before peering through the dim room at his second closet. His locked second closet.

Draco was contented, Taryn's warmth pressed firmly against him. His eyes closed, as sleep began to claim him.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?" he asked sleepily.

"Whats in your second closet?"

His eyes popped open, and he was quiet for a moment as he stared at the dark ceiling. "Did you really mean it?" he asked quietly.

Taryn turned in his arms, so she could look him in the face. "Mean what?"

"Did you mean it when you said that you wanted to know more about me?" he asked softly.

"I did. I do want to know you. You realize that we hardly know each other. We kind of started this backwards. We haven't even had a proper date."

"You want to go out on a date?" he asked.

"Well...It would be nice," she said softly.

Draco's brow crinkled. He hadn't gone out on a proper date in...well..._ever_. Most of the girls he dealt with barely even bothered with the semblance of a date, wanting instead to get right to the _extracurricular_ activities. His mind began to spin thoughts of candlelight and roses. Was that too trite? He'd take her to a movie, but that didn't mesh with what she knew of him. He frowned. This was going to take some planning.

"I want you to know that I don't do this. I don't usually just jump in bed with boys I barely know," Taryn was saying.

She stiffened a bit when he laughed, mouth opening to ask him what was so funny.

"I know that, Taryn. We have gone to school together for the last six years, and blokes talk. If you were the type to shag on the first night I'd have heard about it."

"Oh," she said, her ruffled feathers visibly smoothing.

"And in answer to your question, well, you'd have to see it. I don't think you would understand if I just told you."

She shivered at the slight chill in the air when he sat up, pushing the covers away from them both. Reaching into his bedside table he pulled out a small gold key suspended from a matching chain. She recognized the necklace. She'd seen him pull it over his head, dropping it into the bedside drawer on numerous occasions. She had wanted to try the key in the door, but after the first time she had snooped through his room felt bad about the prospect. She'd made the decision to ask him, and it was going surprisingly well.

Taryn stood by the door as he unlocked it. As much as she wanted to know what was behind the door, she found herself suddenly hesitant to follow through.

Draco, obviously noticing her hesitation, chuckled. "Don't worry. I'm not Bluebeard."

Taryn looked at him sharply. Draco Malfoy read fairy tales?

He slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. The light immediately clicked on.

He watched her slowly walk around the room, taking in the heavy bags, mats and weight lifting equipment. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for her reaction. He felt like he had just bared his soul. She was seeing a piece of him that he had never shown to anyone within the wizarding world, and while he didn't know exactly how he felt about revealing himself to her, it had felt imperative that he do so.

"So...do you box or something?" she finally asked.

He blew out a breath, relaxing a bit at her casual tone. "Yes, among other things. I practice mixed martial arts."

"Really?" she asked, her head tilted to the side as she examined him. She hadn't expected this at all. She had known that it was something important, and after spending more time with him she didn't think Draco was vain enough to need another closet full of clothes, but this...this was a surprise. At least now she knew where he had gotten his physique.

"Yeah. I've been doing it for about three years."

"Wow, three years? I have to ask...why do you keep the room locked?"

"Because you are the only person that knows."

"Not even Crabble and Goyle? Or Pansy?" she asked biting her lip as she waited for his answer.

"No. Nobody else knows. Crabble and Goyle, well, they're too stupid to keep their mouths shut. As for Pansy, I'd never trust her with this. I train with Muggles," he said quietly, watching her for her reaction.

Taryn watched him silently for a moment. She knew that he was involved with Muggles. Why else would he have a driver's license? She had thought that he used the license to get in pubs to drink at the least, now...well it seemed like he used it for far more.

She just wished that she didn't have to pretend to be more shocked than she actually was. She didn't really want him to know that she had snooped, but she felt guilty. Whatever it was that they had was already so fragile, just beginning, and she didn't want to ruin it. Merlin, it rubbed her against the grain that she couldn't be straight with him, but at the same time she was scared to death of what he would do and think if she had the opportunity to do so.

"Muggles? I wouldn't have guessed that at all," she lied. "Why do you do it?" she asked. She really did want to know what was behind his decision to fight.

"I just feel like its the only thing that I can control. Most of my life is based on pretense. I'm probably the best fucking actor in this entire school, and sometimes I just want to throw it all away, but I can't. My parents expect a lot from me, and for once I just wanted something for myself. The reason why I train with Muggles is because my name doesn't follow me there. I'm not Lucius Malfoy's son when I step into the cage. I'm just me, and I determine what happens."

"Not that I'm an expert or anything, but you don't really look like a fighter," she said, one brow raised. His face didn't show any sign of being battered.

He laughed. "Well, it wouldn't be a secret if I walked around with cauliflower ears and a busted face. Magic does come in handy at times."

Draco had gotten his share of injuries. Broken bones, bruises, concussions, the whole lot. He knew that the fact that he always returned to Stygian without injury, with nothing to show that he had ever been in a ring, had only added to his mystique. He had challenges coming at all times, but after his first year of fighting, he no longer felt the need to prove himself time and again. He only fought when he wanted. When he had something to prove to himself.

Taryn walked forward, taking his hand in hers, and tip toeing to softly brush her lips against his. "I'm glad that you showed me this. Come, lets go get some sleep."

* * *

"Do you know why Malfoy is dropping quidditch? The match against Gryffindor is today!" Brice Urquhart, the Slytherin Captain, asked angrily.

Taryn and Chase were sitting in the library studying when the big burly Slytherin stormed up to them.

Taryn looked up at Urquhart, startled. "No. I don't know."

Brice looked at her in disbelief. "You're his girlfriend right?"

"How is that any of your business?" Taryn said sharply.

"Why do you care anyway?" Chase asked. "Malfoy wasn't that great of a seeker anyway."

At Taryn's look he added. "Well, he wasn't." He turned his attention back to Urquhart, "You're probably just missing his father's money. Need some new brooms for the team?" he asked, amused.

"You know what? I don't even care. First the bloke skips five practices, now he is flaking on the game. You tell him that its bad form to quit like this," Urquhart said huffily.

"I'm not Draco's personal assistant. If you want him to know something, then you can go tell him yourself," Taryn said.

Urquhart's sneered at her, before stalking away.

"Ugh, why is this happening to me?" Taryn moaned, resting her head on her crossed arms on the table.

"Maybe because you are dating one of the most well known blokes in the school," Chase said dryly.

Taryn's head snapped up. "We aren't dating."

"Well you're doing something. You spend more time in his room than you spend in ours. Just be honest with yourself. You like him. Everyone can see it. You may as well admit it."

"I know. I do like him, but now everyone expects me to be an expert on all things Draco. I'm still getting to know him."

"Well, Draco isn't the most personable guy. Maybe people find it easier to talk to you instead of him."

"I guess...Its just...Draco and I aren't traditional. Its not just a friends with benefits thing, but he isn't my boyfriend either," Taryn said.

"Actually, love, he kind of is. Remember when he was with Pansy? Even I can see that he cares about you more than he ever cared about her. So, different topic. Are you asking him to go with you to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

Taryn snorted. "Draco can't stand Slughorn, and when I mentioned it he said that it isn't his "scene"," Taryn said holding her fingers up in a parentheses as she stressed that last word.

"He does realize that it is a party where dates are expected right? I can't see him wanting you to go with someone else," Chase said, one eyebrow raised.

Draco's possessiveness in regards Taryn was now well known.

Blaise, after a few weeks of timid silence, had finally spilled about why Draco had attacked him, and now only the most ballsy of wizards tried to make a pass at Taryn, and then only when Draco wasn't around.

Wizards like Felix Serrano, a tall, handsome, dark eyed Ravenclaw, who had made it known that he was more than interested in her. Draco practically growled whenever the wizard so much as glanced at her, and while she found the posturing annoying, she was also slightly flattered.

"I'm not his property, and anyway that's why I'm taking you with me," Taryn ended on a grin.

"No can do, love. I have a fire call date with Ollie that night," he grinned.

Taryn sighed. "I'll guess I could go stag," she said standing and gathering her books. "I'm going back to the room. I'll see you later." She stopped by the lavatory on her way back to the Slytherin dungeons.

The lavatory was crowded, and she had to wait a moment before a toilet was open. She was washing her hands when a group of Gryffindor girls entered.

"I'm going to get him to ask me," one of the girls was saying. She had big dark eyes, and matching curly dark hair that reached her shoulders. Taryn quickly identified her as Romilda Vane.

"Harry Potter is a sixth year, with loads of other girls to choose from. Why would he choose you and not one of us?" another girl with stick straight blonde hair asked.

"Because unlike you, I have a plan," Romilda said archly.

"Really? And what is that?" The blonde asked.

"I'm going to give him a love potion, and he won't be able to resist asking me to Slughorn's party."

"Where did you get a love potion? I know you didn't brew it yourself," The blonde scoffed.

"Never mind where I got it, the fact is that I have one, and you don't, so it will be me that he asks. I can just imagine how this year will go. First it will be the party, then I'll be his girlfriend. Who knows? Later we might even marry. I could end up being the wife of the Chosen One."

Taryn was shocked. How stupid could the girl be? She was openly talking about how she planned to give _Harry Potter _a love potion. Taryn shook her head as she dried her hands. She had to tell Harry on the off chance that the girl actually had a working love potion.

It was by sheer stoke of luck that she saw him walking toward the library.

"Harry! Wait," she said walking faster to catch up with his long legged stride.

He stopped, looking at her in puzzlement. They hadn't spoken since the night she had helped him on the train. Not that she hadn't wanted to, but she just hadn't been able to find a moment to talk with him. They shared only a few classes, and between all the studying, and spending time with Draco she hadn't had time.

"Can I talk to you Harry?" she asked, noticing the looks that were being sent their way. It wasn't often that you saw a Slytherin girl chatting with a Gryffindor boy, especially not when the girl was involved with Draco Malfoy.

"I guess," Harry said hesitantly. He couldn't imagine why she wanted to talk with him, even he had heard about her and Draco. Who hadn't after that display in the Great Hall?

"Privately," she added, watching his brow raise at the word.

She walked with him into the library and further into the East Wing stacks.

Taryn didn't realize the significance of the location, or what it was used for. This far back in the library wasn't usually used for _studying. _Being a bookworm, she didn't know that this section of the library was used for for _mature _couples.

She also hadn't noticed the _very_ interested looks being thrown their way as they made their way to the farthest of the stacks.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to speak.

"I just wanted to give you a warning. I overheard Romilda Vane talking about how she wanted to slip you a love potion. She wants you to take her to Slughorn's party, though that seemed to be the lesser of her goals. Since she is a fourth year, and not a smart one at that, I bet she bought it from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Why didn't you report her? And why are you warning me anyway? I wouldn't think that Malfoy's girlfriend would care about some girl dosing me," Harry said lowly. His eyes fairly glinted with suspicion behind his round glasses.

"They didn't have the potions with them. They were just discussing tactics, and you can't get in trouble for just talking. My relationship with Draco is irrelevant, I'm merely warning you of what I heard. If you choose not to heed it, then by all means let Romilda dose you. I'm sure The Prophet would love to report that you are getting married soon. You should take this seriously. Just invite someone to go with you, and that will stop these girls thinking that they have a chance. The party is tomorrow night, and they're getting desperate," Taryn replied. She _hated_ that she no longer had Harry's trust.

"There isn't anyone that I want to invite, but thank you for the warning," Harry said grudgingly.

"Just be careful of what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," Taryn said grimly before turning to walk away.

"Hang on a moment," Harry said stopping her, "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"When has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?"

"I thought all the owls were being searched. So how is she getting love potions into school?"

Taryn rolled her eyes. "Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions. Its part of their Owl Order Service."

"You seem to know a lot about it," Harry said his eyes narrowed, "And you're on first name basis with Fred and George? I didn't think they had Slytherin friends."

Taryn realized her misstep, she was just so used to talking with Harry that she had slipped into her old patterns. "I have shopped there before. Besides it is on the brochures in their store, there for anyone to read."

"Fine. Forget it. The point is, that if Filch is being fooled, and girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else then anyone else can do the same. What is your boyfriend up to? What nasty little things is he slipping in? A necklace perhaps?"

Taryn had heard about the Katie Bell incident, that the girl had been cursed by a necklace, but she didn't want to believe that Draco had had anything to do with it. "What are you insinuating?" she asked quietly.

"Okay, I'll lay all my cards on the table," Harry said. "I think that Malfoy gave Katie the necklace after he smuggled it into the school somehow."

"Why would Draco give Katie a cursed necklace? What would be the reasoning behind that? Do you have any proof?" Taryn asked.

"No," said Harry, "But just before school started I saw Malfoy in Borgin and Burkes. Mr. Borgin gave him a box that could have had the necklace inside. I wasn't close enough to hear the conversation, but if it was what I thought it was he could have done it."

"That's a big if, Harry. Did you see him leave with it in hand?"

"No, but it could have been wrapped up. In fact, it would have had to be. Malfoy wouldn't want anyone seeing him leaving with it."

"Harry, you're grasping at straws," Taryn began, "You can't blame Draco because you saw him with a random box, one that you couldn't be sure actually held a necklace. Just because he was in the shop, doesn't mean that he bought that necklace. It could have been anything, and besides there are Secrecy Sensors that detect jinxes, curses and concealment charms for every package that comes through here. They would pick up a powerful cursed object. Something that is put in a wrong bottle, like love potions, wouldn't register, and they aren't Dark or dangerous – "

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have witches trying to love trap you!"

"Look, Filch is a Squib, he probably wouldn't catch the love potions, so watch your back. As far as Draco, until you have proof this is all pure conjecture –" she stopped dead. They both heard the sounds. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dim light that barely brought bookshelves out of shadow. They waited for a tense moment, and Madame Pince appeared around the corner, her thin, hawkish face illuminated by the lamp she carried.

"The library is now closed," she looked at them in disapproval, "Mind you return anything you have borrowed to their correct places."

Taryn sighed. The conversation had not gone the way she had planned. Now Harry was even more suspicious of her, and she doubted that he would trust anything she said in the future.

Furthermore, he had put some thoughts in her head that she wasn't yet ready to confront.

* * *

She was back in her room, pulling a night shirt over her head when she heard the knock on her door.

"Chase! I'm in the bathroom, can you get the door?" she called.

The person at the door knocked louder, she sighed. Chase was probably asleep already, which was exactly what she wanted to be doing. Ordinarily she would be in Draco's room, but after Harry's pointed remarks, she had felt the need to sleep in her own bed.

The door was practically rattling on its hinges with the force of the knocks against it. Her hand paused for a minute before she firmly grasped the handle, opening the door slowly.

Draco stood before her, and she didn't like the look of anger on his face.

.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

"Whats wrong with you?" Taryn asked Draco in a near whisper. She was surprised when he pushed past her, entering the room.

"What were you doing with Harry Potter in the far stacks?" Draco asked bluntly. His platinum hair was tousled, the grooves from his fingers clearly evident.

"How do you know about that?" Taryn asked, confused at his tone.

"Several people were all too pleased to let me know that they saw you going into the far stacks with Harry fuckin' Potter, now tell me, why?" Draco asked angrily.

"I needed to talk to him about something, not that it concerns you. Why are you so angry? I know that you don't like him, but this seems a bit extreme," she said, waving her hand to encompass his form. His body was rigid with anger.

"Do you know why people go into the far stacks, Taryn?" Draco asked, his voice had gone silky, yet still managed to be laced with menace.

"To get books? Its a bloody library. Why else would they be there?" she said in exasperation.

"How can you be so naïve? They go back there to fuck, not to look for books!" His voice had gotten louder.

Taryn's temper snapped."Be quiet! Chase is asleep! And I did not go back there to 'fuck' Harry, as you so eloquently put it. I am not one of these little slags that you are used to dealing with. Yeah, I sleep with you, but you are the _only_ guy that I am sleeping with. I thought you understood that. I thought that you trusted me," she paused, before sucking in a deep breath and calming herself by sheer will.

"I don't want you alone with other guys!"

"Draco," Taryn began calmly, "I am not your possession. This is not the middle ages, and you aren't my husband. You aren't even my bloody boyfriend. You can't decide who I spend time with."

"This is all because I wont go to that fuckin' Christmas party, right? Shit, if its so important I'll take you."

Taryn couldn't believe his gall. "This is not about a Christmas party. Its about you and me and what ever we are doing. You need to decide what you want, because frankly I'm tired of this weird, uncertain relationship thing we are doing. Are we just shagging? Or are we something more?"

Draco was speechless and bloody pissed. No girl had ever put him on the spot like this. Well, they had tried, but it had _never_ affected him in this way. He felt like a worm wriggling on a hook, and he didn't like it. It wasn't like _she_ had been hinting that she wanted something more. She didn't realize just how much he had let her in.

Letting her into his sparring room was like letting her peek into his soul. He spent more time with her than anyone else, and he had thought that while whatever it was that they were doing was untitled, it was comfortable. He wasn't forcing her to be with him.

This was coming out of the blue as far as he was concerned. Taryn was trying to neatly wrap him around her finger, and he couldn't allow it. He had too much at stake to let this get in the way of his mission. This wasn't time for a teenage romance, but he was reluctant to just end it, to put such a final note on whatever it was that they were doing. "I need some time to think," was all he said, before he turned and left the room.

* * *

Draco avoided Taryn like the plague the next day. A fact that was noted by many of the female population in the castle. They thought it per usual. Other that his ill fated relationship with Pansy, Draco never stayed with a girl long term.

He knew that it was hurting her feelings, and he hated that he put that look on her face, but it couldn't be helped. He had kidded himself starting something with her. He had known going in that she wasn't the type of girl to just shag a bloke and go on without catching feelings, but he was just selfish enough to ignore what he knew to be true. He felt like he had used her, and while it had started that way, it had changed rather quickly. He hadn't expected to have these feelings for her. He just...liked her, she'd been like a balm to his soul.

Some how, and he couldn't say exactly when it had happened, she had become essential. Other than fighting, she was the only thing that could give him that sense of peace he craved. That is when she wasn't tying him in knots. The thing was, they were both so passionate. If they weren't arguing they were shagging. If they weren't shagging they were probably arguing, and in between those intense moments were pocket of calm where they just _got_ each other, and it felt like nirvana. However, the tempers soon came back and they found themselves once again at an impasses that usually was solved with a thorough shagging. He didn't think that the tactic would work this time. Too many things had been revealed. And even more things were being kept hidden, especially on his end.

He had finally had to admit to himself that he cared about her, probably more than any other girl he had ever been with. It was why he had to push her away, but at the same time he hated the thought that she might move on.

Blokes were certainly starting to notice her. He saw the lust filled looks that were sent her way. The way they looked at her curvy little body made him practically mental. He wanted to go Neanderthal and toss her over his shoulder, screaming "MINE" at any male that dared to approach, and this unsettled him greatly.

He had never been the possessive type, mostly because he hadn't ever wanted a witch to think that she had the right act the same. That she had any rights to him.

He couldn't even compare the feelings that he had for Taryn to the many dalliances that he had had before. It was like comparing a puddle to the whole Atlantic Ocean. His feelings for Taryn reached down to his most basic, primal, depths. A place that had heretofore had only been inhabited by anger and the drive to fight. He had been practically gobsmacked when he had come to the realization that if he wasn't in his current situation he might not have minded being Taryn's.

She made him consider things that he had never envisioned for himself. Like what would happen after they graduated from Hogwarts. He had found himself thinking of traveling , that is if he lived, and taking her with him. He'd had vivid, colorful daydreams of him and her in places like Venice and Paris. Her appearance in his daydreams had been a given, and it scared him. He couldn't let this go on. He didn't want her to know that she had so much power over him, and it was becoming evident to everyone else that he barely had control of himself in regards to her. And so he had done what he always did. He ran from it using one of his best ploys. It had been far to easy, comfortable, to slip back into his superior veneer. It was one of his best armors, and settled over his skin like a favored, if somewhat tarnished shield.

Even though he knew that it was counterproductive, he wanted to knock Felix Serrano's teeth out of his fucking mouth. The guy was up to no good, and Taryn wasn't experienced enough to note the hot looks the wizard sent her way. The bloke only wanted in her knickers, and just the thought of his even _trying_ made Draco want to break bones. He felt savage at the thought, and it seriously unhinged him. He only felt this intense when he was about to demolish an opponent in the cage, and even then it wasn't nearly this bad. In the cage he had control. With Taryn he was holding on to control with the tips of his bloody fingers.

When he heard that Taryn had invited the other wizard to Slughorn's party as her date, he had literally contemplated murder. He wouldn't actually kill the bloke, but he wanted to seriously fuck him up.

He had been spinning thoughts of how he could end Serrano, when his mind clicked. He needed to be working on his plan to kill Dumbledore, not spending time imagining ways to beat the shit out of Felix Serrano, though it was now on his to do list. The guy might even be a _slight_ challenge. He was a big as shit seventh year Ravenclaw. He was a Beater on the Ravenclaw squad, so Draco knew him casually. He had never before had a problem with the guy, though he didn't like the bloke's attitude. He was one of those burly guys that thought just because they were big that that meant they could do whatever they wanted. Serrano talked a lot of shit, and with any of the other pussies in school the bluster might have held water, but Draco knew that he could take him.

Many men had underestimated Draco before after seeing his delicately handsome features and lean body, and lived to regret it. He was used to battling fighters with actual skills and training, so Serrano would be a cake walk.

The part that pissed him off the most was that he wouldn't – couldn't – say anything to Taryn about the date. He could tell that she obviously wanted him to, but he couldn't risk it. At the end of the day though, he cared about her. He was going to keep an eye out for her.

And so he sat on one of the couches in the common room, pretending to read, waiting for her to appear.

* * *

Taryn was to meet Felix in the entrance hall so they could walk to Slughorn's office, where the party was being held.

She had fretted for over an hour on what to wear. She had a point to make. She wanted Draco's jaw to hit the bloody floor, to finally make a decision instead of childishly avoiding her. She knew that it was one of the oldest tricks in the book to make a wizard jealous, but it had to be one of the oldest tricks for a reason.

He had totally ignored her the entire day, pretty much forcing her hand to her way of thinking. Draco thought that he was such a boss at hiding his emotions, but she could see them. She'd spent enough time in his company to recognize at least some of them, and she knew that Felix got under his skin, though she didn't entirely understand why. Felix was a nice guy, if a little pushy with his company.

Her plan for Slughorn's party had been to just go with Chase if she couldn't get Draco to agree to escort her, but she hadn't wanted to ruin his "date" with Oliver. She knew that the long distance relationship was hard on her friend and it wasn't often that Oliver's schedule matched with Chase's.

Before their fight it hadn't really bothered her that Draco hadn't wanted to go to the party, but now it had become a sore point. She wanted to respect his decision on needing time to think, but she would not be ignored. It hurt. She hadn't thought that he was going to completely ignore her, and it was like a knife in the chest that he only spoke to her when it would be completely rude not to do so.

His mood swings were giving her whiplash. He avoided any overtures she began about their relationship, but at the same time still sat beside her in all the classes they shared. It pissed her off that he was pushing her away and puling her closer all at the same time. On the other hand, he was still being possessive, and it gave her hope that he would come around, though she really didn't like the possessiveness. It was ridiculous. She almost expected him to piss in a circle around her, warning off other guys.

Inviting Felix to the party was simply a survival tactic. She knew that he liked her. He'd made it pretty obvious, so she knew that he would accept her request. It just wasn't how she had wanted to spend this night. It had been a chore she had had to make the decision between traditional dress robes or a dress when all she really wanted to do was burrow under her covers in her rattiest, most comfortable pajamas, but she wouldn't allow Draco the satisfaction. She was going to blow his mind. That is if she could make a decision between her two top choices.

Chase had finally come to her rescue. "You should definitely wear that." he said pointing to her first choice, "Draco will swallow his tongue when he sees you. You'll look hot. If I was straight even I'd be trying to shag you," he ended with a laugh.

"You don't think its too much?" she asked hesitantly. The long sleeved, gold mini dress was deceptively modest, but for the length, in front. The back, however, was quite daring. It would reveal her entire back, stopping just over the curve of her bum. It was also quite formfitting, though that didn't bother her. In actuality her dance clothes were just as tight, but they didn't scream sex like this dress did. If she wasn't so upset and angry with Draco she probably wouldn't even be contemplating wearing the dress.

"You want to send a message, right?" Chase asked.

"I want him to know what he is missing by acting like he is. I know its childish, but I don't know what else to do," she said quietly. She really didn't. No matter the fact that Draco didn't want to admit that they were in a relationship, but that is exactly where they had been heading. The problem was she didn't have any experience. She was totally out of her depth with him. He didn't really act like a teenager, and while her death had changed and matured her, it hadn't imparted the sort of knowledge that would help her with Draco. She had only what she had seen with other girls, and Tracey's piecey memories.

"Well, you are going to kill him if you wear that dress. Murder by fashion," Chase said grinning. "What are you going to do with your hair?"

"Draco really likes my hair down, but since this dress is backless I'm going to let it do its wavy thing, but have it pinned to one side. Kind of a side swept, old Hollywood style."

"Nice, sounds good," Chase said nodding.

Taryn dressed quickly, slipping her feet into matching gold pumps. Her makeup she did almost naturally, using a deep dark brown for her liner, a soft blush, but using a dramatic true red on her lips. She misted herself with a light raspberry-vanilla scent, and grabbed a small clutch on her way out.

"Good luck," Chase called from behind her.

Taryn took a deep breath, and walked down the corridor of Serpent Hall, heading for the main Slytherin common room. Thank Merlin for Tracey's dance training she thought, because Hermione Granger would have slipped and fell with the first step. She reasoned that in these heels, she wouldn't even have to stand on tiptoe to reach Draco's mouth.

Upon entering the common room, her eyes unerringly found Draco's, and his expression was everything that she wanted, and a delicious shiver ran through her body in reaction. She watched heat kindle within his eyes, turning them from dove grey to smoky charcoal. He snapped the book he was holding close, his gaze slipping down her body like a caress, before he seemed to catch himself. He frowned, looking around at the other boys who were obviously appreciating the view as much as he was. She could see his body tense, and was shocked when he stood and walked from the room without saying one word to her.

"Shit, Davis," said Theo Nott, striding up to her. "No wonder Draco keeps you locked up."

Taryn looked at him dismissively, before squaring her shoulders and leaving the Slytherin dungeons.

At the entrance hall, Felix waited for her, leaning against a wall lazily. He stood at attention when he saw her approaching. His gaze roved her much like Draco's had, but produced none of the same reactions. She almost wished that she had decided to wear a traditional robe, especially when his hand came to rest on her bare back as he escorted her to Slughorn's office.

"Did you see that?" Felix asked leading her up the marble staircase.

"See what?" Taryn asked distractingly. Her mind had been on Draco, and she hadn't heard anything the wizard had been saying.

"Potter's bringing Loony Lovegood to the party," he said on a laugh, fully expecting Taryn to join in. "He could have taken anyone, and he chooses her?"

Taryn saw Harry stiffen, he was walking in front of them, but she beat him to the punch. "Dont call her that. _Luna _is a nice girl," she said evenly, her tone low.

Felix glanced at her, realizing his verbal misstep. He clammed for a minute, but seemed to rally quickly beginning to chat about some sort of quidditch nonsense that she didn't care the least about.

Taryn was surprised at her first glimpse of Slughorn's office. She had thought it strange that he would be having a party in his office, but obviously the room had been built larger or magically made so. The walls and ceiling were draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, making it seem as if the room was a large Arabian tent. It was crowded, and the air was stale with the press of bodies and perfumes. The room was bathed in a red light cast by an ornate golden lamp that had real fairies fluttering inside.

A haze of pipe smoke, originating from a group of elderly wizards deep in conversation, blanketed the room. The music was terrible, consisting of loud singing accompanied by mandolins. House-elves navigated the room bearing heavy silver platters heaped with food.

Taryn saw Slughorn rushing forward to greet Harry, and rolled her eyes at his attire. The man was wearing a crushed velvet smoking jacket, and a matching tasseled hat that looked ridiculous.

Taryn was beginning to think that coming to the party was a bad idea. First there wasn't anyone that she knew, apart from her former Gryffindor friends, and second, Felix was beginning to make her very uncomfortable. He was using the excuse of leading her through the crowd to rub his hand in slow circles on her back. She edged away from him, putting in some much needed space.

"Felix, do you mind getting me a beverage? I'm simply parched," she said, laying on the charm. Anything to get him away from her.

"Sure, doll," he said moving through the crowd toward a house-elf holding a tray of goblets.

Doll? Taryn rolled her eyes in disgust, before using his absence to duck through the crowd, hiding in one of the curtained alcoves. She could have slapped herself for her stupidity. Obviously in dressing for Draco, she had given Felix entirely the wrong impression.

The crowd moved and she found herself in a prime position to listen in on a conversation between Harry, Slughorn, and Snape, who was being dragged forward by Slughorn. She peered out at them from the nearly transparent fabric.

Snape, of course, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, a look that was shared by Harry.

"Join us, Severus!" hiccuped Slughorn happily. He was obviously already deep in his cups. "I was just talking about how exceptional Harry is at potion-making! You must have some credit in this of course. You taught him for five years!"

Snape looked at Harry, his eyes narrowed. "Really? I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all."

"Must be a natural ability then!" shouted Slughorn. "You should have seen what he produced on his first lesson. A perfect Draught of Living Death! Never have I had a student brew a finer specimen on their first attempt. I don't think even you, Severus– "

"Really?" said Snape again, his eyes boring into Harry.

"What other subjects are you taking Harry?" asked Slughorn.

Taryn was shifting from foot to foot, cursing herself for choosing such tall heels, and drifting out of the conversation when she heard Luna speak.

"I don't think that you should be an Auror Harry. The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They have been working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."

Taryn let out an unladylike snort as she started to laugh, but stopped mid-giggle at the sight of Draco being dragged into the room by Filch.

"Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and delayed in his arrival. Did you invite him?" he questioned, his expression gleeful at the chance at punishing a student if Draco was found to be lying.

Draco angrily pulled himself from Filch's grip.

"All right, I wasn't invited. I was trying to gate-crash, happy?"

"You're in trouble," Filch said happily. "The headmaster said that nighttime prowling is out, unless you've got permission."

Draco crossed his arms. "I have permission as a prefect, right Professor Snape?"

Snape was watching Draco with a look equal parts anger and something else. "I'd like a word with you Draco," he said quietly.

"Oh, now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, "Its Christmas, and its not a crime to want to go to a party. Don't be so hard on–"

"I'm his Head of House," Snape interrupted, " and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise to be. Follow me Draco."

While everyone was watching the two leave the room, Taryn used the distraction, and a quickly applied Disillusionment charm, to skirt the edges of the room to follow them.

Once out in the corridor, she paused for a moment, wondering where they had went. Snape could have taken Draco to his office...or perhaps to the common room. She slipped the heels from her feet and walked quickly down the corridor listening at door after door, finally in a stoke of luck hearing voices coming from the last classroom at the end.

She knew enough not to stand directly in front of the door. What if they should open it suddenly and walk into her? She cast a quick non-verbal Audientes, grimacing at the slight buzz in her ears before the voices clearly resonated. It was like she was standing inside the room right next to them.

"...cannot afford to make mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled–"

"I didn't have anything to do with it!"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because if you aren't it was both inept and clumsy, and now suspicion is being thrown your way."

"What's new? People are always suspicious of me. They don't have proof so this discussion is moot."

There was a beat of silence before Snape spoke again.

"I see your Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency. What are you trying to conceal from the Dark Lord, Draco?"

Taryn's hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp. Draco was a Deatheater? She hadn't seen the mark. She'd kissed nearly every inch of his body, and had never seen it. It was customary for the mark to be placed on the forearm, so why hadn't she seen it? He must leave it concealed. It must be a very strong glamour charm. A long term glamour took a great deal of personal power and control. Had he been so controlled all of the times that they had been together? Or was he simply that powerful? Either way, it was only one more revelation that she was ill prepared to deal with.

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from _him_, I just don't want _you_ in my head," Draco was saying.

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice low. "I'm trying to help you. I swore to your mother that I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow–"

"Why would Mother come to you of all people? She shouldn't have done that. I'm not a child! I don't need your protection. This is something that I alone have to do, and I don't trust you or anyone else to do it. I have a plan, and it _will_ work, its just taking longer than expected."

"What is your plan?"

"None of your business!"

"I can assist you."

"I said I don't need you, I work alone."

"Well you certainly were alone tonight. Why were you wondering the corridors anyway? Miss Davis I presume? You don't have time to waste on silly love–"

"Don't talk about her!" Draco interrupted.

"You are acting like a child, Draco. I understand that with your father's imprisonment and the precarious position your mother is in has upset you, but–"

Suddenly the door was ripped open, and Draco was striding down the corridor, past the open door to Slughorn's office, around the distant corridor, and out of sight.

Taryn slid down the wall to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees, the chill of the stone wall against her bare back. Her mind was racing, and she was crushed. She had just found out Draco was a Deatheater, and Merlin help her, she was in love with him.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Taryn barely noticed the chill of the stone floor against her bare feet as she headed back to the dungeons. She'd spent far to long crouched across from that door after Draco had left, biting her lip against the tears that threatened to spill.

Once Snape left the hall, followed by a curious scuffle of feet, she allowed the fat tears to stream down her face with a sob. She hadn't cried since she'd left the hospital. The iron casing that she had tried to so diligently build around her heart had rusted and buckled under the weight of this new revelation.

Eventually, though, she had gathered the tattered bits of her strength, pulling a tissue from her clutch and wiping her eyes. Thankfully the pain had turned into a cushioned shock that allowed her to make it back to the house quarters.

She ignored the night owls loitering around the common room, and headed directly to Serpent Hall.

"That was quick! I thought you would still be busy making Draco drool..." Chase said as Taryn came into the room, her heels dangling in one hand, her clutch in the other. Chase stopped talking when he got a good look at her face.

Taryn looked a complete mess. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from tears; her once stylish side-swept hair now tumbled messily down her back.

"What's wrong?" Chase jumped up, walked to her, and throwing an arm around her shoulder led her to the couch. "Was Felix an ass?"

"No, it wasn't Felix, though he _is_ an ass. Draco gate crashed the party, and we kind of got into a fight," Taryn lied quickly. Chase was her friend, but she didn't want to reveal what she had just learned until she could wrap her own mind around it.

"Aw, I'm sorry. I thought for sure when he saw you in that dress...Well, fuck him then. If he can't treat you right then he isn't worth it," Chase said firmly.

"Its not that easy. I think I love him," Taryn said quietly.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of. I had hoped...I mean, it seemed like he had started to change. I could kill him, the fucking asshole," Chase said angrily. "I'm going to go find him right–"

"No, please. I know you mean well, but please don't do that. You haven't gotten to know him like I have. He's not...there's good there. I don't think that I could care so much if there wasn't," she said. She didn't know if she was trying to convince herself or Chase.

"Okay," Chase said gently. "You're right. I really don't know him like you do. Why don't you sleep on it, hun? You are too upset right now to make any rational decisions. Get some rest and tackle it in the morning."

Taryn nodded, before standing and heading to the bathroom. She took a shower, scrubbing away the remnants of her makeup and pretending that tears weren't mixed with the warm water washing down her face.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The next morning she didn't even catch a glimpse of Draco with the bustle of students leaving for Christmas holiday and she was rather relieved.

She didn't want to see him until she could make a decision on what she wanted to do with the new information she now possessed. A year ago she would have taken this information directly to Dumbledore, but now she had other things to consider. She needed to find out what he was was doing, and more importantly _why_ he was doing it. She really couldn't tell anyone yet. She absolutely didn't want him to go to Azkaban and she was afraid that that would be the outcome if she spilled her guts before she had information that would work in his favor as well. His father was already there, so it wouldn't take much for the Ministry to send Draco there as well.

She was warring with the Draco she knew from the past, the arrogant superior boy. The revelation of Draco the Death Eater, and the other aspects of his personality that made her love him so much.

If anyone had asked her a year ago she would have said that Draco was the last person that she ever thought she would fall in love with.

Her highly logical mind was now beset with emotions that defied all logic. Emotions that didn't make sense at all, and she couldn't bury them no matter how much she tried. And at the bottom of everything was the fact that she actually didn't really want to bury them. She cringed now at how she had castigated Draco about his feelings when she was just as conflicted. She was really no better and she was finding that she was no better prepared for the onslaught than Draco was. She hadn't even admitted to herself that she loved him when she had basically ripped into him for his lack of decision on their relationship. It was unfair, she knew, but she hadn't been able to stop the words from coming. At the time she had thought them completely valid and deserving, but now she really was unsure.

Though she and Ron had never spoken of their feelings outright, she had always assumed that he would be the one that she married. When she thought herself in love with Ron that was the only future she imagined. Draco and Ron were as different as night and day.

Draco was such a contradiction. In public he put on such an act that she knew had taken years to perfect. He could be cold and superior, the Pureblood act at its best or depending on your view, its worst. In private, with her, he was different. Not exactly tender, but much more caring, with a sarcastic sense of humor that kept her laughing.

When he finally showed her his sparring room, she felt like she understood him more on a fundamental level. Draco craved competition and control, and after studying martial arts, the control had seeped into his regular routine. Thinking back, she realized that while he could still be cruel at times it only came out when he felt provoked.

Something big had to have made him take the mark. Before she would have said that merely vanity could have been his catalyst, but now after getting to know him, she was sure that there was more, and because she loved him she had to find out what that something was.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Her stepmother met her at Kings Cross. Jillian looked cool and beautiful, her dark hair pulled into a low bun. She wore a slim grey skirt, matching flats, and a pretty floral printed blouse. She smiled when she saw Taryn, pulling her into a gentle hug, and kissing the top of her head.

"Nigel couldn't make it," she said apologetically. "He had a business meeting that couldn't be avoided, and Reggie and Cathy are visiting Cathy's parents for the holiday."

They walked though the bustling train station and out to Jillian's Aston Martin two seater.

"He's going to be home later, right?" Taryn asked, lifting her small bag and placing in the trunk.

"I hope so," Jillian said softly, turning the key in the ignition, her hand trembling.

Taryn looked at her sharply, her brow crinkling. That sounded rather ominous. "Tell me...what he is really doing?" she demanded.

Jillian's face crumpled. "He doesn't want you to know."

"I'm not a child Jillian. I can handle it," she said firmly. Nigel might not be her real father but she did care about what happened to him. He was now part of her family after all, and he loved his daughter very much.

"You mustn't worry," Jillian began, "Nigel has been approached by agents of You-Know-Who. He has agreed to give them funds in exchange for our being left out of their dealings."

Taryn was nodding. "We knew that this might happen. I just hope that they live up to their end of the bargain."

Jillian's chin quivered as she tried to hold back tears, her gaze focusing on the wet, chilly road, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"Why don't we practice when we get home? It's been ages since we've danced together," Taryn said gently. She could tell that Jillian needed something to take her mind away from what might be happening with Nigel, and frankly she did as well.

Jillian smiled at her sadly. "I would like that very much."

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Here miss, I have marked the plot here. And, again, I'm very sorry for your loss."

Taryn nodded her thanks as the elderly gentleman handed her a single piece of paper. One square on the map was clearly marked with the florescent ink of a yellow highlighter.

She supposed that it wasn't the healthiest thing to want to have a look at your own grave, but she was probably one of the only living people to ever get the chance. Ghosts didn't count. Looking around she had to admit that despite its rather hokey name, Rolling Green Cemetery was actually nice.

It was an older cemetery, with headstones dating back to the seventeenth century. It was peaceful, tranquil even; the only sounds she heard was the crunch of frost under her boots.

The cemetery was almost like a park, with tree lined pathways and benches. She would bet that in the spring it would be a riot of colors as flowers bloomed. She didn't see a single other person. It seemed that not many people visited cemeteries on Christmas Eve, and definitely not at twilight.

It began to snow, and she pulled her coat tighter, picking up her pace. Soon she stood in front of her grave, watching the snow pile on top of the tombstone. The stone was made of a white marble, a kneeling angel leaning on a square surface inscribed with her name.

Hermione Jean Granger

1979-1996

Beloved Daughter of Daniel and Claire

"If there ever comes a day when we can't be together keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever"

She hadn't known exactly how she would feel standing and looking at her own grave, but she hadn't expected this. This lack of feeling, an all encompassing numbness that didn't allow for anything else. She was almost grateful. It stamped out all the turmoil that she had been feeling over the Draco situation and the things that she still had yet to decide.

She quietly walked back to the taxi that awaited her, her eyes unfocused as she was driven to her next stop.

The Georgian townhouse was the place that she had called home since birth, and it took an act of will to keep her from running up the steps and through the door.

The five bedroom home had bluish bricks that looked gray as the sky darkened. It made the house, that was usually quite cheery with its wrought iron fence that bloomed with greenery during warm months, seem a little solemn.

The blankness of the house was a slight shock. At this time of the year Christmas usually dominated. Christmas was Claire Granger's favorite holiday and the home was usually adorned with twinkling lights, and artificial icicles, and a couple of inflatable snowmen standing sentry in the front lawn by December first. Instead there was only a small, lonely looking wreath adorning the door, and it imparted a neglected sadness rather then the bit of cheer it was supposed to provide.

Blowing her breath against her hands to warm them, Taryn moved forward to get a better glimpse into the front window. As she looked through the frosty window of her former home, she couldn't help but see the sadness that was etched into her parent's faces.

The light from the fireplace revealed her mother and father sitting quietly, hands clasped as they silently stared into the flames.

Claire had a streak of grey hair threading through previously completely dark locks, and her father had lost weight. He had always had a slight paunch, due to her mother's fabulous cooking, and now it was gone, whisked away by grief.

She pressed a fist against her mouth and the tears that she had held at bay while reading her headstone inscription finally escaped, running warm trails down her face. The quote on her headstone had come from one of her favorite literary characters. As a child she had been mad for Winnie the Pooh and Daniel Granger had often read the stories to her before bedtime. It had been a practice that they had maintained for years until she had been accepted into Hogwarts, and though she had tried her best to be a big girl her first year, she had always secretly missed the sound of her father's voice lulling her into sleep.

She didn't know how long she stood in front of her house in the bitter cold before a voice broke through her reverie.

"Hermione?"

Taryn whipped around, both at the soft feminine voice, and the fact that it had spoken her true name.

Directly behind her stood a young woman. She wore a sky blue chiton and delicate silver sandals that wrapped up her legs. Her hair was a thick golden blonde piled high with a blue ribbon twirled through the curly strands. She was young, she looked all of fourteen. She didn't seem to be troubled by the chill air, despite the scant protection of her attire.

Taryn drew her wand quickly, pointing it at the woman, readying herself for whatever should happen.

"Please...I mean you no harm," she said holding her hands up. "My name is Aisa. I've traveled very far to come and see you."

Taryn stared into the woman's bright green eyes before the name clicked. "Aisa? You are the one who..."

"Yes," Aisa said quietly, "I am the one whose terrible mistake ended your life as you know it."

"What are you doing here? What could you possibly want with me?" Taryn asked, sniffing back tears that had been sad but were now angry.

"Let us go someplace else. You cannot be comfortable here in this cold."

"You are the one traipsing around in a sleeveless sack dress," Taryn said bitingly. "Besides, what would make you think that I would go anywhere with you. Its your fault that my life is a joke."

"No one else can see me, and it would look odd if we spoke here. That taxi driver waiting for you probably thinks you're a crazy person, standing in the cold talking to yourself. Please, I don't have much time before I am missed. I beg of you. I will follow you to wherever you want to go, just please listen to what I have to say," Aisa said pleadingly.

Taryn observed her for one long moment before nodding in agreement.

The drive back to Dorset felt interminable. Taryn had considered going to a pub, she didn't really want the girl anywhere near her new home, but that thought was shot down quickly. It, of course, presented the same problem as before. She couldn't be seen talking to herself in public, and it seemed that the woman had something very important to say. She would rather deal with whatever emotional fallout that resulted in the privacy of her own home. She just hoped that the woman wouldn't set off the wards that blanketed the house, and was relieved when the she appeared a moment later without fanfare.

"Please, have a seat," she said politely, amazing even herself with her calm tone, motioning Aisa toward a chair.

Aisa glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings, before sitting down with a soft sigh. She cleared her throat. "I'm not sure where to begin."

Taryn stared at her, making no effort to help the conversation along.

Finally Aisa began to speak again. "I just want to say that first and foremost, I am very sorry for the pain and suffering that my foolish action must have cost you. I don't have any other excuse but to say that I was new and overconfident in my abilities."

"So you came all this way to just to tell me that you were sorry?" Taryn asked bluntly. She was half astonished and half disgusted. What did the woman want? Forgiveness? Taryn wasn't sure if she could give it to her or even if she wanted to try. She didn't feel like absolving the girls guilt.

"No, I came here to offer you amends, though nothing I can do will give you back the life you once had. I don't have the power to restore you to your rightful body, but I do have enough to change an aspect of the bargain you made," Aisa said earnestly.

Taryn's brown wrinkled in contemplation. Where was the girl going with this? "What do you mean?"

"You can't tell anyone who you are. I've never been human, so I can't say I know how you feel, but I can imagine that that part of you is very grating. I can, well I guess the best description is _loosen, _that part of your agreement, but I can't completely unweave the fabric that powers it. My power will allow for you to tell one, and only one, person who you are. I must stress that you choose wisely. If the person you choose isn't reliable the results could be far reaching and disastrous. You will be betting your life on this person."

"Would the person I choose be able to tell others who I am?" Taryn asked eagerly. Finally! A chance to get back _some_ of her life.

"They could. Technically they wouldn't be part of the bargain, but think about it carefully. If too many people knew that you were reincarnated it could disrupt the order of things. The situation in the wizarding world is precarious as it is. We know much about the person who calls himself Lord Voldemort. With the sheer terror that he causes, we could have people killing themselves, betting on the fact that they would be resurrected just to get away.

Taryn frowned. "While I understand where you are coming from, this really isn't much of a concession. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but that was my life that you ended. I may never get to interact with they people I loved ever again, and to be honest, I'm still extremely angry about that fact. Why are you doing this anyway? They already cleaned up after your mistake. If you had to sneak here to offer me this then that implies that you could get in trouble. Why trouble yourself?"

"Because you didn't deserve what happened to you, and I personally don't think bargain that you agreed to was fair. It was my fault that you felt desperate enough to make it, to my everlasting shame, and I am so very sorry. I let my overconfidence and arrogance blind me to my faults and you were the victim of my egotism. I thought that because I was chosen for Morai training that that meant that there was something special about me. I let that conceit rule me. I've been sent back to training, but I will not be completing it. I have decided to transmigrate – to be born into a new body. My soul needs to mature before it is ready for a responsibility like this again. I wanted to do right by you before I go."

Taryn didn't know what to think. On one hand she was still completely angry about what had happened. Now that she had a face to align with her anger the feelings that she had buried were surging forward. On the other hand she could tell that the girl was sincerely sorry, and that she really did want to make amends.

"I accept your apology, but I don't know about this new bargain. As much as I want to be known for who I am, the last time I entered an agreement with one of you it didn't go so well," Taryn said quietly.

Aisa's face crumpled. "I can guarantee that the one person that you choose to tell will have no repercussions leveled against them because of this, but I have to be honest. I can't control what happens to anyone that that person chooses to tell."

Taryn considered this for a moment, before nodding slowly. What choice did she really have? To live forever never being known for who she really was, or to take the chance of revealing herself and dealing with whatever came with it.

"I accept your offer," she heard herself saying.

The smile on Aisa's face was beatific. "Take my hands please."

Taryn pushed her hands forward until they made contact with Aisa's. The sting she felt as they clasped hands made her jump. It was like she had been static shocked, and she was relieved when the shock died down to a faint tingle, more like a limb that was waking up from being asleep.

She watched, her eyes widening as a soft blue glow began to encompass their joined hands. When the glow finally receded, her gaze went back to Aisa and she was shocked at what she saw.

Aisa, who had been radiant, was now faded. She had deep lines etched into her face, her once golden hair was lank and gray. She had aged a good fifty years. She rose painfully to her feet, weaving, and Taryn reached out a hand to steady her.

"Are you okay?" Taryn asked in concern.

"I'll be fine," Aisa said her voice raspy with effort, but there was a joy there that the exhaustion couldn't hide. "That took a bit more out of me than I thought it would. I think I gave you more than I intended, but I have enough to return to where I belong."

"What do you mean you gave me more?" Taryn asked in alarm.

"Don't worry," Aisa said patting her hand. "It won't harm you. In fact you may find that you need it later," she said her eyes gleaming knowingly.

"What exactly is it?" Taryn asked skeptically.

Aisa simply smiled, and stepping away from Taryn she began to fade. "Thank you for allowing me to make amends," the woman said, her voice seeming to come from a distance.

"No! You can't leave before telling me…." she began, but it did little good, Aisa was no longer there.

"Shit! What the hell is up with you people and your penchant for not answering questions," Taryn said to the empty room.

After a moment the full realization of what she had been granted slammed into her. She threw off the coat she still wore, kicking off her shoes, before burrowing under her covers. She now had what she most wanted and there was only one person who she wanted to tell.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Shura Dementyeva absently wiped a smudge from her glasses before perching them once more on her small nose. She took a sip of her coffee as she waited for the man to come. She really didn't know what to expect, had been actually amazed that he had been able to track her down, let alone was interested in her fourth great grandmother's story.

"Are you sure that you wouldn't like something to eat? The chef has made some cinnamon buns that I highly recommend," the waiter suggested. She had been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes, and was the only person sitting in the small cafe this early in the morning. He wasn't late, but because she wanted time to make herself comfortable before he arrived.

She'd spoken with him briefly on the phone, and she knew to recognize him by the green jumper that he said he would be wearing.

A flash of green caught her eye, and she turned her head in time to watch him walk directly toward her.

"Hello, I'm Severus Snape," he introduced himself, shaking her hand firmly, before sitting down across from her at the small table.

"Hello, Mr. Snape. I'm Shura, of course. Please excuse any mistakes in my English. It isn't often that I get to practice," she said smiling.

"Please, call me Severus. I want to thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I'm sure that my request seems a bit strange."

"Well, to be honest, it is a bit. To think that you came all the way to Kanash from – Scotland was it? – just to talk about a little known story. I didn't even realize that the book had even enough copies to make it out of Chuvashia."

Snape laughed a bit. "It was very hard to come by, not to mention very expensive. I was told that there were only two surviving copies, and that the other one is in a museum. However, I am a seeker of knowledge, and no price was too dear to assuage my thirst to know the truth."

Shura raised a brow at that statement. "I don't know how much I can tell you. I probably don't know much more than you do."

"You know what happens afterward. It didn't tell me what happened to the child..."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Draco spent an extremely uncomfortable dinner with his mother where they spent most of the time trying not to stare at the empty seat at the head of the table. The conversation was just as stilted, with Narcissa trying her best to speak of happy things and avoiding the elephant in the room.

She even pulled out the truly horrid Christmas stocking that she had knitted while she was pregnant with him. After seeing what she had come up with, she never knitted again, but being a proud woman she pretended that the crooked letters were intentional and thus hung the stocking up every year without fail.

"So, how are your lessons?" she asked in a falsely cheery tone. Draco pretended not to hear the strain in her voice.

"As well as can be expected," Draco said quietly.

"You know...Pansy still writes me on occasion," Narcissa began.

"I'm not getting back with Pansy, Mum."

"I know...I know," Narcissa said waving away the comment. "She has written me to say that you are getting rather serious with Tracey Davis," she said eying him closely.

Draco looked at her sharply. "We spend time together, yes," he finally allowed.

"Well, is it serious or not? I'm not like your father, while it would be nice for you to marry a Pureblood, I want you to be happy above all else, but it does worry me. Have you told her about..."

"Of course not!" Draco said bitingly. Seeing Narcissa flinch he gentled his tone. "Forgive me, Mother, but no I haven't told her, but she is a smart girl. I can't control what rumors she might have heard, but I haven't told her about it."

"She hasn't asked you?"

"No, and I hope that she never will," Draco murmured. He didn't want to lie to Taryn, but he wanted her hurt even less. If he had to lie to protect her then he would. As much as he hated being in an argument with her, it was a blessing in disguise. He felt like the worst scum on Earth looking in her big blue eyes in one moment and plotting murder in the next.

"I guess that is for the best, at least for now. When this _business_ is over maybe you two can become something more," Narcissa said. This time the cheer in her voice was real.

Draco didn't want to burst her bubble by saying that it would be a miracle if he survived. His mother did need her hopes, however naïve they might be, after all.

* * *

Draco quickly mounted the stairs to the third floor, skipping the lift. He hated to take the elevator. He didn't like the thought of being trapped in a box lifted by cables, despite the fact that he could Apparate out should the need arise, and there was the fact that you often had to ride with another person. Then there was always the idle yet awkward conversation that he liked to avoid.

He walked briskly to the end of the long hall, stopping in front of a pair of ebony lacquered double doors.

Pulling out his key, he unlocked the door, not bothering to turn on the lights in the entrance hall. His first stop would be the kitchen, Apparating usually gave him a wicked case of dry mouth, and he knew there were cold cans of coke just waiting for his consumption.

As he walked through the entrance, a scream, followed by a doughnut thrown in his face stopped him abruptly.

"Rico!" a tiny brunette, clad in a half buttoned dress shirt, screamed.

"Wait, I'm..." Draco began as he heard the thudding footsteps.

Rico, obviously having just rolled out of bed –naked– , skidded to a stop as he took in Draco standing in the kitchen doorway and the brunette cowering in the corner of the spacious room.

"Get him Rico!" the brunette screamed as she reached for of all things a colander. How she planned to defend herself with that Draco would never know, although he was somewhat interested to see her try.

Rico blew out a sigh of relief. "Leah, calm down this is my brother Dra – er – Ryu," he amended at Draco's pointed look.

Draco took in Rico's lack of attire with a grimace. "Damn, man, put on some freaking clothes!"

"Well, fuck, I didn't think I would be seeing you this early," Rico grumbled, walking to the living room to pull an afghan off of the couch. Wrapping the blanket around him he turned back to Draco.

"You two are _brothers_?" Leah was asking skeptically from behind them, taking in Draco's blonde hair and fair skin and Rico's dark locks and golden brown tone.

"Yeah, we are," Rico said bluntly.

And they really were. Rico and Draco were the closest to a brother that each other had. Rico was the only Muggle that knew that Draco was a wizard. After a year and a half of training and fighting together Rico had asked him point blank about what he was. At the time Draco was scared shitless but now he could think back on the day with humor.

"_What the fuck are you, bro?" Rico had asked._

_Draco, who was in the middle of beating the shit out of the heavy bag stopped abruptly. "What to you mean?" he asked cautiously, pushing sweat soaked hair from his face._

"_Do I really need to list everything?" Rico asked, sitting cross legged on the mat. _

_Draco merely stared at him quietly. _

"_Fine," Rico said blowing out a breath, "I guess nobody else has the balls to ask, or they are too fuckin' stupid to realize. I don't mean this in a bad way, but you are fuckin' weird. You're better now but the first couple of weeks knowing you was, I dunno, strange. You didn't know basic shit. Asking you to order a pizza by phone was like someone asking me to lecture about quantum physics. Nobody could ask you anything about telly or music without that blank eyed stare coming on your face. I get that this place isn't big on confessions, and maybe that's why nobody asks. There is also the fact that you don't scar. I know that you are a rich kid, don't deny it, but there isn't enough money or plastic surgeons good enough to make you look like you haven't taken some hits. I mean, your nose isn't even crooked from when Lars broke it six months ago! I know that we didn't start out cool, but I'd like to think that we're cool now, so again, what the fuck are you?"_

_Draco was immensely glad that only he and Rico had decided to stay after close to train longer. Rico had been with the gym long enough to teach, so Jeff didn't think anything of letting him lock up later if he so desired. _

_Draco drew in a long breath. "This can't go past these doors. You can't tell anyone."_

_Rico rolled his eyes. "Man, this place is built on secrets. I think I can keep yours."_

"_Imawizard," Draco mumbled. _

"_What?" Rico asked, his forehead crinkled in confusion, "speak up. I didn't hear that at all, man."_

"_I said, I'm a wizard," Draco said in a clearer tone. _

_Rico began to laugh. "Bullshit. Man, if you don't want to tell me just say so and I'll back off."_

_Draco hadn't considered that if he ever told a Muggle what he was that they wouldn't believe him. "Its true. Why would I lie about it? I think I could come up with a better excuse for avoiding conversation if I wanted."_

"_I dunno. Maybe you just don't want to tell me, but you know what I'll play along. Do some magic if you are a wizard," Rico said in an amused tone. _

"_I can't. I'm not allowed. Its punishable by law."_

"_That's pretty convenient," Rico said, chuckling. _

_Draco frowned for a moment, before brightening. "Punch me," he said excitedly. _

"_What?" Rico asked, one brow risen in question. _

_Draco figured that he could do a small wandless trick and blame it on strong emotion if questioned to avoid the underage magic muggle presence penalty. He'd plead self-defense if he had to. "Don't argue, just hit me. Its nothing new, I just wont be hitting you back. Don't hold..."_

_His words were cut off as Rico slammed his fist into his mouth. Blood ran down his chin, and the folded metal chairs against the wall began to rattle. _

_Rico watched in amazement as one lifted itself into the air, unfolding before easing behind him. _

"_Have a seat," Draco said grinning, wiping the blood from his face. He watched as Rico sat abruptly into the chair that had been so generously provided. _

"I'm going to have a shower while you talk to your _brother," _Leah was saying.

"Sorry, mate," Draco said after the brunette had headed to the bathroom in the master bedroom. "I didn't realize that you'd have somebody over."

"Its cool, she's just this chick who works down at Bianchi's," Rico said shrugging, as he headed to the room to get dressed.

"Damn, is there gonna be shit when we go there later?" Draco called from the living room.

Rico and Draco always met up a few days before Christmas for pizza at Bianchi's. After the first year of knowing each other, where Rico routinely kicked the shit out of him until Draco learned to give as good as he got, Draco had finally spoken more about his background. He had explained, as briefly as possible, about his family and the different kinds of danger that Rico would be in if he ever met them. By the time that he actually got around to talking more about himself, he didn't need to convince Rico that he was telling the truth and Rico took him at his word.

They had grown close. Everyone at Stygian knew that if you came after Ryu that you would have to deal with Rico, and vise versa. They always had each others back, and while Draco would have liked to show Rico some of the Wizarding world, with Voldemort around it just wasn't possible.

So instead they hung out during holidays and summer break. They had even went half in buying the apartment, and Draco kept a room there. It worked out for them both. Rico couldn't have afforded the place by himself, and Draco had a place where he could just be himself and get away from all the problems at the manor.

"Nah, man. Leah is cool, and besides its not that serious. She doesn't have a dude and I don't have a girl, so we help each other out," Rico said with grin, walking back to the living room.

"Good, because I've been dreaming of a deep dish slice for months, and I don't want your dick to fuck it up," Draco said on a laugh.

"It already fucked it up," Rico said smirking, innuendo lacing his voice.

They chatted amiably for a while until Leah got out of the shower.

"I'm going to take Leah home first and then I'll meet you at the restaurant," Rico said.

Nodding, Draco headed to his bedroom. He sighed in relief and laid back on his bed. The room wasn't that much different from his room at Hogwarts. Despite Slytherin's overwhelming love for green, Draco actually preferred blue or black, and his room echoed his tastes.

He hadn't taken the time to decorate it himself, he never would have purchased the blue and black decorative pillows that were piled on his bed. The pillows, as well as the stylish black and white prints had all been the doing of Stephanie Brock.

At the time they bought the apartment, Draco had been fourteen, he hadn't dared deny a heavily pregnant Stephanie from her joy of decorating. It seemed that her nesting stage extended beyond the four bedroom house that she and Willy bought after their wedding, and no one hand wanted to ruin her fun.

Despite being tough fighting men, they all caved whenever Stephanie's big brown eyes welled with tears, which had been often when she was pregnant. Only Willy had smiled indulgently at his wife's tyrannical decorating methods, every one else had smiled to her face, but looked at each other in shared masculine terror when her back was turned.

Draco had found himself spending entirely too much time, and money, in John Lewis being dragged by the hand though department after department by Stephanie. It was embarrassing enough that they had thought he was her kid brother, but his eyes definitely began to glaze over when she began to describe the differences between duvets and comforters and the merits of a mattress protector.

On the other hand, he hadn't really wanted to be bothered with decorating the apartment and since it made her happy he'd bowed out and let her run free. Surprisingly she had taken his taste into account and he found himself liking what she had chosen. The place felt more like home to him than anywhere else, and after he graduated, if he lived, he fully planned to move in with his brother.

Finally, dragging himself off of the bed, he went to his closet and pulled out a battered leather jacket, and grabbed his helmet from the top shelf.

Downstairs in the parking garage, he lovingly ran his hand over his bike. When he had decided to get a motorcycle a year ago Rico had looked at him like he was crazy.

Rico thought nothing of getting into the ring with a guy who could bash his head in, but the thought of a motorcycle was too much.

"You'll get yourself wrapped around a pole, bro," he had said. "Why don't you just get a bad ass car, like mine?"

"No, I want the bike," Draco had said firmly.

Sighing, Rico helped him by contacting a few good friends and setting Draco up with a false driver's license. After a few weeks of searching Draco found the perfect bike.

The Ducati had seemed to call to him. He had paid the owner's outrageous price, the man knew he was underage and took full advantage of it, and he had taken it to a mechanic after to get it thoroughly checked out. After the bike was cleared, he took it in for a paint job, choosing a blue so dark that it was almost black.

Rico had merely shook his head, saying that Draco didn't even know how to drive the bike.

Surprisingly it didn't take much time for him to learn. Draco figured it was like anything else in life. If you wanted it bad enough, you made it happen, and he loved his bike. It was thrilling to race through the streets, not to mention the fact that it really turned on the ladies. Sometimes all he had to do was roll up, take off his helmet, and it was like the ladies threw their knickers at him. After a while, even Rico contemplated getting a bike, but soon got over the notion with the purchase of a new car.

Pulling on his helmet, Draco swung a leg over the bike and soon the engine turned over with a roar.

Speeding down the streets, he made his way to Bianchi's, stopping and parking his bike in front of the small restaurant.

The restaurant didn't have much to commend in the looks department. Ten small round tables covered in threadbare red and white checkered tablecloths dotted the floor, and five booths lined one wall, just under a set of windows. Each table and booth had a small glass vase with two plastic roses standing inside. The walls were painted a peeling burgundy red and hosted a truly eclectic collection of prints, photos, and even signed napkins. Despite the shabbiness of the décor, the place was packed.

Bianchi's had the best pizza in all of London, as far a Draco was concerned. Granted he might be slightly biased, this was the first place he'd actually _eaten_ pizza, but judging by the crowd he wasn't the only one who felt the same.

Scanning the crowd, his gaze finally alighted on Rico, who was sitting in the last booth, located next to the kitchen and emergency exit, a half eaten pizza in front of him.

Draco didn't even blink at the sight, he was going to order his own pizza anyway. Rico's taste in pizza was disgusting. He didn't understand why the bloke had to ruin a perfectly good pie with anchovies. For himself he liked the simplicity of plain pepperoni, occasionally with black olives.

"What took you so long?" Rico asked, mouth full of pizza.

"Just relaxed a bit, mate," Draco said, easing himself into the booth.

A waitress promptly appeared beside the table, her eyes settling on Draco, ignoring Rico completely.

"Hey, Ryu. Do you want your usual?" the blonde asked. She was wearing the standard Bianchi burgundy tee-shirt, but it was tied into a knot in the back, baring her midriff and clinging to her generous breasts. A strip of tanned skin was revealed over her tight jeans. She pulled an order book out of her black waist apron, even though she already knew what Draco would order.

"Hey, Brandi. Yeah, I want the usual and a beer to go with it," Draco said distractingly.

"Whatever you want sugar," She said, eying him lingeringly before sashaying away, her face crinkled in confusion.

"Shit, man what did you do to her? She is still on you!" Rico said in amusement.

Draco had met Brandi and Bianchi's just before the start of his fifth year. She had thought that he was older, his height and muscles often lent credence to the assumption, and she had promptly began to flirt with him. She was a few years older, he had never asked exactly how many, and she had been the first girl he had ever had sex with. She was a cool girl, not that he'd bothered to learn much more beyond the fact that she was a screamer. Her best quality was she didn't ask much of him, and was always ready for a shag if he was so inclined.

"What can I say," Draco said grinning, "I have skills."

"You taking her home later?" Rico asked.

"No, not this time," Draco said sobering, as he thought of Taryn. They hadn't ironed anything out yet, but he felt like it would be...wrong...to take Brandi back home with him. He just didn't feel right about it.

"You're shitting me right? When have you ever turned down a hot chick? Especially Brandi, the chick without a gag reflex," Rico said, laughing at his crude statement. He watched Draco intently for a moment when he didn't join in. "Shit, man. You aren't back with that Pansy chick are you?"

"Fuck no," Draco said quickly. "If it was up to Pansy, I'd be married and she would be knocked up." He shuddered at the thought.

"You got somebody though," Rico said, " and something else is bothering you. I can tell."

Draco frowned. Rico was too fucking perceptive. Since he didn't want to drag his brother into the Voldemort shit, he decided that he would tell him about Taryn, and hopefully it would distract him from the other things.

"I'm kind of seeing this girl Taryn. We go to school together," Draco said finally.

Rico had to wait a moment before commenting because Brandi was back at the table with their beers, having assumed that Rico would want another one as well.

"Your pizza will be ready in about fifteen minutes," Brandi said, frowning when Draco didn't engage her in conversation or even flirt a little.

When she finally moved away Rico asked, "So she's a..."

"Yeah, she is," Draco said, answering Rico's unasked question of whether or not Taryn was a witch.

"So she your girlfriend then?"

"That's debatable," Draco said, darkly.

"That doesn't sound very promising, bro, and it really doesn't sound like your MO. So, do you want her to be?" Rico asked, taking a swig of his beer.

"Honestly, at times I wouldn't mind it. She pisses me off in one second and in the next all I wanna do is keep her in the sack. I know that she wants more, she just as much as said it," Draco said, brows furrowed.

Rico regarded him for a moment. Draco really didn't look too appalled at the prospect of becoming something more with the girl. He wondered if Draco realized that he was in love. In an effort to relieve some of the heavy Rico asked, "So what does she look like? Is she hotter than Brandi?" he asked on a laugh.

Unfortunately, it was said at a bad moment. Brandi, having overheard the comment, slammed their pizza tray on the table before stalking away in a huff.

"Aw, sorry man. Looks like I burned those bridges for you," Rico said apologetically.

"Its cool. I didn't make promises to Brandi. She knew what it was. I just hope that she doesn't spit on the next pizza I order," Draco laughed.

"So, about Taryn," Rico prodded, while applying himself back to his own pizza now that Draco had his.

"Man, she's so fuckin' hot. She has reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, and her body is sick. She's a dancer," he said, biting into a slice.

"Ah, flexible then," Rico said grinning.

"Yeah, well, lets just say that the sex doesn't suck."

"So, what's wrong then? Dancer, hot body, what fucked it up?" Rico asked.

"Maybe the fact that my life is complete shit, and its dangerous right now."

"You mean that Vol..."

"Don't say his name," Draco interrupted. "Its not safe, even here."

The din in the room was considerable, but he wouldn't allow Voldemort's name to pass either of their lips.

"Right, okay then. I just don't get it. Why doesn't someone just take him out. A bullet to the head would do it right nicely."

Draco pondered this for a moment. Fuck, that would be sunshine and rainbows if I could just blow a hole in his head, he thought, but he soon discarded the idea. "He grew up as a Muggle. It would be a huge oversight if he didn't have some sort of shield, and he's not an idiot. He didn't survive this long by being a dumbass."

"It was just a thought. You could always nuke him, though."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah if I ever get my hands on a nuclear weapon, I'll consider it."

Rico looked at his adopted brother closely. He knew Draco, and his bro was dealing with some deep shit, and it pissed him off that he couldn't help. Now, if Draco needed his help to beat the shit out of something, then he was all in, but this magic shit was something else entirely. It still freaked him the hell out sometimes that Draco could do magic, but he thought that he hid it pretty well. It helped that Draco didn't go overboard with it around him. He could actually count on one hand the number of times that he had actually seen the guy do magic, and that included the first time.

Draco took to non-magical life like a kid took to Disneyland. Simple things like telly, or a movie theater got him as happy as a fat kid with a huge slice of chocolate cake, though he did his best to hide it around everyone else but Rico.

"Man, I know that something else is up. You should just tell me. I can't come out brandishing wands and shit, but I can still listen," Rico said quietly.

Draco paused mid-chew. "Can I ask a favor of you?" he said just as quietly.

"You know I got your back," Rico said in answer.

"If something happens to me, can you keep an eye out for my mum and Taryn?" he asked solemnly. "I wouldn't trust any other motherfucker with their safety, and that includes my dad."

"Of course, man, but are you sure? You know I don't have any magic or anything."

"That's one of the reasons why. I have some shit that I have to take care of, and If it doesn't go the way I want, I need to make sure that they are both is taken care of."

"Like I said, I have your back," Rico replied. He'd do anything needed to help his brother, even leaving the life he had build here if need be.

Sighing, Draco felt some of the constant tension in his shoulders abating. Pushing the pizza away, he pulled out a pen and paper, scratching down a few different account numbers. "If things go bad, they'll need some money. You guys might even have to leave the country."

"Fuck, man, don't even worry about..." Rico started. Now he was even more worried. What had his brother gotten himself into?

"No," Draco interrupted, "I have a lot of money. Other than my bike and the apartment, I've saved every bloody note I earned, and I don't want you to have to use your own money." He didn't add that he had planned to use the money to live on his own after graduation, to finally once and for all get away from the fake society shit. Maybe set his mom up in her own house if he could finally get her to leave his dickhead father.

"Alright," Rico agreed, sensing that it would become an argument if he didn't. He didn't like where this conversation was going at all. Draco seemed...almost defeated. Well, maybe not exactly defeated, but definitely resolved. He was still a cocky bastard, but the cockiness was definitely down a few notches, but this new attitude scared him. Draco was obviously planning for a world that would exist without him.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

Taryn didn't want to disappoint her stepmother, but attending a charity ball was the last thing she wanted to do on New Year's Eve. She had so many things on her mind that she wasn't sure if she would be able to put on the polite mask she would need for the evening. She felt bad about it. It wasn't like she didn't care about charitable acts, but really, she was only going because she knew that it would make Jillian feel better.

They had both sighed in relief when Nigel returned home, physically fine, but emotionally drained. He had avoided most of their questions, simply stating that he had taken care of everything. When Jillian suggested attending the Annual St. Mungo's Charity ball, even though each ticket was priced at a whopping ten thousand galleons, Nigel was quick to agree. He knew that it had taken so much of his wife's strength to display even a modicum of reserve while he was out negotiating with Deatheaters. If a holiday party would make her feel more content then that was what they would do.

"We should go shopping together for dresses. I know it would be kind of last minute, but it could be fun," Jillian suggested to Taryn as they stretched together in the dance studio.

Taryn hid a grimace at the thought of shopping in the post seasonal craze that always seemed to happen after Christmas. "That would be okay," she said, bending over to touch her toes. "Diagon Alley or Muggle London?"

"Definitely Muggle London," Jillian replied. "Only the sticklers will be wearing dress robes, and this does give me an excuse to shop for a ball gown," she said grinning.

The next morning, which happened to be the day before New Year's Eve, they woke bright and early to better avoid the crowds. They went to a boutique owned by one of Jillian's best friends, Katherine James, who also was their personal shopper from time to time.

"You did give me rather a short notice," Katherine was saying, as she lead them to a comfortable dressing area.

There were low couches and a full length, wall sized mirror on one wall. The room was painted in a soft eggshell white tone that matched the couches. Off to the left side were several large dressing booths. All in all it was a nice set up with the couches being for family and friends to sit in comfort, while giving their opinion on dresses.

"I'm sorry," Jillian said in apology. "I wasn't sure that we would actually be able to attend the party or I would have given you more time to come up with something."

"Its okay. I actually have a few things that I picked up months ago that would be perfect for you and Tracey," Katherine said smiling.

"Oh, she goes by Taryn now," Jillian replied.

"Really? Well, I always thought a girl should be able to reinvent herself if she wants to," Katherine said. In a businesslike tone she said, "Okay, I have two gowns for you to choose from Jillian."

Moving to a rack placed off to the side, she brought down two garment bags.

By then Taryn's attention had strayed. She had made her decision. Draco would be the person that she told.

The fact that Draco was a Deatheater had given her pause for a moment, but she didn't believe in her heart that he would do anything to hurt her. While he hadn't exactly came out and told her what he felt, she knew that he cared. If he didn't care he would have simply broken up with her after she gave him the ultimatum regarding their relationship, and it would have been finished. The fact that he had told her that he had to think meant that he was at least considering making their relationship real, even if he didn't realize it himself.

The rub in the deal, besides the obvious Deatheater problem, was what if he didn't believe her? Or even worse, if he rejected her. That thought had kept her up at night, with worry churning in her gut, but she had to believe that if she loved him enough to work past his problems, that maybe – hopefully– he loved her enough to be with her in spite of the reincarnation.

When Aisa told her that she could tell one person, Draco had immediately come to mind. Despite the love that she had for her parents and friends, Draco had been first and foremost. Of course, she wanted her parents and friends to know, but she didn't know if that would be fair to them. They were grieving and she didn't want to reopen the healing wounds. Also, it wasn't like they could take their proper places within her life again. She had to live this life.

It scared her a bit, the depth of feelings that she had for Draco, and the fact that they had developed rather quickly. She had been naive to think that she would be able to sleep with him without developing feelings. Not that women couldn't shag and leave just like men, but Taryn realized, albeit after the fact, that she wasn't one of those women.

It made her analyze all of the interactions that she and Draco had had over the years. She reasoned that maybe they had always been more than mutual loathing, proving true that old adage, that hate and love are different sides of the same coin. In fact, there really hadn't been a huge reason that she should have hated him above any other Slytherin. She had been called a Mudblood by many others, and while she hated the slur and all it entailed, she hadn't hated the people who said it. She now realized that as they had gotten older the dislike had been colored with an unacknowledged attraction, at least on her part. She was scared to discover how he really felt, and would have to use every bit of her Gryffindor courage to make the confession.

"So what do you think of Jillian's gown," Katherine said, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Its nice," Taryn said finally looking at the dress the Jillian was wearing. It was a floor length gown in a medium blue chiffon, with a crystal studded shoulder strap that made the strapless dress actually a one shoulder gown.

"Now, for your dress," Katherine said, rubbing her hands in glee. "Its just so...you. When I saw it I thought, Taryn will look fab in this."

The dress she brought out, Taryn had to agree, would look fabulous on her but it was definitely something Tracey would have chosen. For herself she would have gone with something...less sexy...because, other than when she was trying to make Draco jealous she wouldn't have been caught in a dress like the one Katherine held.

It was a rather sexy minidress. The bodice was a sheer black lace with a build in bra. The backs was open and it tied with a delicate black ribbon. The skirt a voluminous feathered design. Taryn would definitely have to apply a warming charm when she wore the dress.

"Um...Katherine. Isn't that a bit _mature_?" Jillian said delicately.

Katherine waved her hand. "Oh, pish posh. Taryn is practically an adult. You have to let go of the leading strings at some point."

Jillian frowned before glancing at Taryn. "Well...Do you like it?"

Taryn considered the dress for a moment before replying. "Its fine. I'm just glad that I don't have to spend time scouring stores for a dress. This is much more convenient." Besides, she thought to herself, the dress wasn't any more revealing than the one she wore at the Christmas party.

Katherine clapped her hands in happiness. "Well, now that that is settled, come have a look at the shoes and accessories that I picked out."

* * *

Taryn passed her wand over her hair, straightening the waves before pulling her hair into a sleek ponytail. She had applied her makeup in smoky black and grey tones that made her blue eyes pop. On her mouth was a pink barely there shade with the slightest bit of shine.

Stepping into her black pumps, she made one last quick survey of her look. Nodding her head at her reflection in approval, she took a moment to spritz on a delicate vanilla scent before grabbing a small clutch into which she slipped a lipgloss, and a small bag of Galleons. Raising her dress, she slipped her wand into the satin thigh sheath meant for just that purpose.

Walking down the steps from her room she heard voices speaking quietly. She recognized Jillian and Nigel's, but the other voices were unfamiliar.

Crossing the foyer, she entered the large living room. She didn't immediately recognize the middle aged couple and young man that stood next to them, but after a moment their faces clicked. Merlin, this was exactly what she _didn't_ need that night.

Nikolai and Lida Mezentsova had been friends with Jillian since her performance dance days. She had been best friends with Lida, even living together when they were in their late teens since they had been in the same dance company. When Lida later met her husband Nikolai and gave up dancing for hearth and home, Jillian had even helped to train Lida's son Sasha in dance.

Unfortunately, Sasha was the boy that Tracey had lost her virginity to. Looking at him objectively, Taryn could acknowledge that Sasha was indeed handsome. He was tall, with dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. He had the slender build of a male ballet dancer, yet still managed to convey masculinity. He looked like he was around nineteen years old.

Sasha and Tracey had practically grown up together, and the relationship had been platonic until she reached her fifteenth year. That was the year that they had begun to see each other differently. From the scenes she could access, she deduced that Tracey had been in love with Sasha and devastated when he decided to leave to pursue a career in dance that took him back to his father's homeland, Russia.

Judging from the hot looks that Sasha was sending her when he thought their parents weren't looking, he most likely assumed that she would be okay with resuming their sexual relationship. He was in for a rude awakening.

Lida crossed the room to stand directly in front of her. "Oh, it is so good to see you doing better. When we heard about your accident we were so worried," Lisa said in her soft Russian accent, clasping Taryn's hands with her own.

"Thank you, I'm feeling much better," Taryn replied.

"Well, shall we go?" Nigel interrupted.

Sasha held out his arm, and Taryn placed her hand gently on the crook. She sighed. She hadn't planned on having a date, the party was already more than she wanted to deal with on its own, and now she would be expected to make polite conversation to a bloke that was obviously making plans to get in her knickers.

"I am also glad to see that you are well. You definitely look good. You look _very_ good," Sasha said, handing her into the car, his eyes trained on her bum.

Nigel had rented a limo for the occasion, and Taryn sat down gratefully in the cushy bench chair. "Are you still planning to audition in Russia for a place in the company?" Sasha asked.

Taryn looked at him sharply as he car began to roll. "No. I don't think that I will."

Sasha patted her hand. "That is good. I'm glad that you have finally accepted that you wont be in a company. You just don't have the feet, but that is okay. You have many other fine qualities," he said lowly, running hot eyes down her form.

Taryn barely pushed her disgust back. What an asshole, she thought. She sincerely hoped that Tracey had gotten over this dickhead. She scooted over a bit, thinking that one more inch between her and Sasha didn't seem nearly enough. He wouldn't be getting anywhere with her. She'd hit him with a stinging hex so hard that he'd still be feeling it this time next year if he tried anything.

They quickly arrived to the party, handing their embossed invitations to the doorman before entering the large hotel ballroom where the benefit was being held.

Taryn endured Sasha's hand on her lower back as she made her way through the room.

The ballroom was huge with golden walls and elaborate molding. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling that was painted in a sky blue with puffy white clouds. One end held tables and chairs and an open bar, but the room was dominated by the polished wood dance floor.

"What a gorgeous set up!" Jillian exclaimed happily. "Why don't you and Sasha take advantage of that dance floor," she s, suggested to Taryn with a smile.

Taryn smiled, biting back a snarl. "Sure, why not?" she said, letting Sasha lead her out to a into a waltz.

They weren't thirty seconds into the dance before Sasha said, "So...do you want to meet up later. You know..._after,_" he said smiling at her winningly, obviously sure of her answer.

"No," Taryn said bluntly. It was just her luck. Another date with a lecher.

His mouth dropped open, before he schooled his face back into its cocky expression. He must have thought that the look was sexy, but he had nothing on Draco in the sexy cockiness department, and Taryn was immune.

"Oh, don't be like that Tracey, you know I can make it good for you," he said, rubbing his hand on her back.

"Stop doing that or I'll leave you right here on the dance floor, and again the answer is no," she said. He was seriously pissing her off, both by calling her Tracey after she had told him that she went by Taryn now, and by being such a cad.

Sasha's face drew into a deep frown. "Why not? If its about me breaking up with you before I left then just know that it was for your own good. I couldn't subject you to a long distance relationship, it wouldn't be fair to you."

"Really?" Taryn said, accessing Tracey's memories. "What about the blonde you were seen kissing in that pub? Were you thinking about me then?" The memory of Tracey crying while holding the newspaper with the photo of Sasha kissing the girl was vivid. The Mezentsova's were a wealthy, well known family in Russia. The Prophet Russia was only too happy to print anything they could about the heir to the Mezentsova fortune.

"She didn't mean anything. She was just a shag, nothing like you, sweetheart," he said silkily, trying his best to wear down her resolve.

Taryn abruptly stopped dancing. "Ugh..does that shit usually work on girls for you? If you must know I'm seeing someone at the moment, and even if I wasn't with him I wouldn't shag you if you were the last bloke on earth."

His mouth opened and shut, at the sound of her cursing. Tracey hadn't been the type of girl to swear, and Sasha was beginning to realize that Tracey had changed. "It worked on you last summer summer when we were shagging our brains out. You don't have to lie. I know that you aren't with anyone else right now. You know that you are in love with me. I practically had to beat you off with a broom the last time I saw you. Stop lying and while you're at it quit cursing. It isn't like you and it isn't attractive," he said angrily.

"I don't care if its attractive or not to you. I _am_ seeing someone else, whether you choose to believe it or not."

"Who?" he asked drawing her closer to him, taking advantage of the crowd to pull her off of the dance floor before they made a scene.

"None of your fucking business. You have a lot of nerve," she whispered fiercely.

"Tell me! Is it that bloke who has been glaring at us since we got on the dance floor?" Sasha asked through his teeth.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Taryn said, pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Well, you're going to have to explain yourself because he is coming this way," Sasha said pointing through the crowd of people.

Her gaze followed his pointing finger and landed on Draco, who was making his way through the crowd, even pushing some of the people out of his way. He wasn't running, he wasn't even rushing. His gait was determined and graceful, like a panther stalking prey.

His eyes almost looked silver instead their usual dove grey. He finally reached her, gently pulling her toward him and away from Sasha.

"What are you doing here?" Taryn breathed. She hadn't expected him to be here, but she was glad he was. He looked devastating in his black suit, with an equally black shirt that despite the formal occasion had a few buttons undone, and there wasn't a tie in sight.

She frowned when he ignored her question, asking instead. "Who is this baby?"

Taryn's brow rose at the endearment, and she looked between the two boys. She stepped away from Draco, putting herself between them. Even if Sasha couldn't sense the menace rolling off of Draco, she definitely could. She wouldn't care if he knocked a few of Sasha's teeth out, but she didn't want the scene or the trouble that would come after. There were far too many ministry officials and Wizarding society elite in the room to let such a thing happen.

"He's nobody," she said, holding up her hand as she watched Draco's shoulders bunch in barely restrained aggression.

Unfortunately Sasha was too stupid to remain quiet. "What do you mean Tracey? I'm her lover," he said confidently to Draco.

"No the fuck you aren't," Draco snarled, moving forward.

Taryn turned quickly, silently thanking Katherine for the six inch heels, before wrapping her arms around Draco's neck to draw him into a kiss. As she thoroughly kissed him, she literally could feel the tension draining out of his body.

"Tracey! What are you doing?" Sasha gasped out in amazement. He was unused to women preferring other men over him, but he had obviously not come across the likes of Draco Malfoy.

Taryn had stopped kissing Draco, but she continued to look into his eyes, loving how his dove grey eyes had darkened to charcoal.

He leaned forward again to drop another quick kiss against her lips, before quietly whispering, "Lets get out of here."

Taryn nodded, untwining her hands from his neck before turning back to Sasha.

"Who is he?" Sasha said, in a shocked tone.

Taryn opened her mouth, but Draco interrupted her. "I'm her man, and we're leaving," Draco said bluntly, before grasping her hand in his.

Taryn looked at him in shocked amazement. She hadn't expected this development at all.

"Tracey! What am I going to say to our parents?" Sasha exclaimed.

"Tell them whatever you want," Taryn said over her shoulder as Draco pulled her through the crowd and right out of the door.

Outside she began to shiver as the warming charm she'd applied earlier began to wear off. Draco immediately stripped off his suit jacket before settling it on her shoulders.

"I can just put another warming char..." his look stopped her words.

"I can take care of you," he said quietly.

"Okay," she relented. It wasn't worth the argument. "We need to talk about..."

"Not tonight," Draco interrupted. "This last night of the year, I want to be just Draco and Taryn. We can talk all you want later. Just trust me," he said earnestly.

Taryn looked into his eyes a moment before nodding. "Okay," she said, barely getting it out before he ripped her into a sidelong Apparition.

They appeared in a large, penthouse like apartment. He pulled her into a bedroom before he began to slip out of his clothes.

"Draco, I'm not having sex with you tonight," she said, shrugging out of the suit jacket. She took in the room, noting the black and blue decorations. This was obviously his room, but where were they? She wanted to ask him badly, but she remembered her agreement to trust him and bit back the question.

He smirked at her with amusement, before pulling a pair of jeans out of his closet and slipping into them. He pulled a black shirt over his head before he answered her statement. "You've said that before, and you remember what happened then?"

She blushed. It was true. She had said that before, the last time she had found herself against the shower wall gasping in pleasure as he thrust inside her, as the hot water fogged the room. "Well tonight I mean it. Not with so much unsaid between us."

He sobered, staring at her intently. "I know, baby, and we will have that talk, but not tonight. Tonight I'm going to show you another part of my world."

He pulled on a pair of black boots and pulled two leather jackets out of his closet. He scrutinized her form for a minute, eyes slowly caressing her. "While I like the dress, it won't do for where we are going. Especially not the shoes, but I might want you to wear them again for me later."

Taryn rolled her eyes. "Well its not like I brought a change of clothes with me. You didn't even give me time to grab my clutch. I don't even have money."

"Not a problem," he said, pulling out his wand. He quickly transfigured her dress into a sexy lace shirt, ignoring her squeak of protest. A shirt of his quickly became a pair of tight jeans, her heels magicked into a pair of low heeled black boots. The second leather jacket was soon spelled into a perfect size for her, tailored to her curves.

"You are rather good at that," she said glumly, imagining the other girls he had undressed and redressed.

"You are the only one who knows that I can," he said, watching as the comment smoothed her ruffled feathers.

Turning to his closet he pulled down his helmet, and quickly transfigured a coin into one for her.

Taking her hand again, he led her from the apartment down to the parking garage. He watched for her reaction as he led her to his bike. "Now baby, its going to be okay for you to ride this with..."

"I know," she interrupted him. "I said I trust you. If you have a bike, I'm sure that you can handle it."

Draco looked at her, finally nodding before smiling in the most unburdened way. It transformed his whole face. Taryn always thought him sexy, but this happy face had a sexiness of its own sort.

"Put on your helmet," he said, pulling on his own, before swinging a leg over the bike. He waited for her to get on behind him and quickly explained motorcycle passenger basics before turning the key in the ignition.

They arrived soon thereafter at a rowdy pub. Getting off the bike he swung an arm around her waist before stepping toward the door, which was guarded by a large Black Muggle with a shaved head and surprisingly brilliant light brown eyes.

"Draco," Taryn said quietly, "Are you sure that I can get in here? I don't have a Muggle license."

"Don't worry about that, and Taryn...call me Ryu inside okay?" he watched for her reaction to his statement, relaxing when she merely nodded without question.

Drawing closer to the Muggle bouncer, Taryn watched as the man's scowl became a grin as he recognized Draco.

"Ryu! How the fuck have you been? Been a long time since I saw you here. You looking for Rico? He's inside with the rest of 'em," he said pulling the door open. Loud rock music spilled from the door.

"Thanks, Derrick. By the way how are Simone and Kylie?" Draco asked.

"Simone is the same. Still nagging me, " Derrick said grinning. "And Kylie is growing like a weed. She's two now, and getting into everything."

"Don't be too hard on her," Draco laughed. "This is Taryn," he said introducing her finally.

"Hey, Taryn," Derrick said, nodding at her before moving aside for them to enter the building.

It was a typical pub. Smoke was hazy in the air, and there were glowing beer signs on the walls. The walls were painted black and matched the bar on the far right.

Draco grasped her hand again, leading her through the room to a table in the back that was packed with people.

"Hey, bro!" a handsome Latino boy said to Draco. Standing he and Draco did that strange hug, clap on the back, thing that men did. "I didn't think I'd see you tonight, and certainly not with such an attractive date."

Draco grinned. "Well, I'm like bad pound, I always turn up. Hey, everyone this is Taryn," he said introducing her to the group.

"Taryn, these are my best friends," he said to her. "Rico, here though, is like my brother."

Everyone seemed pleased to meet her, all except for a sultry blonde, who looked at her with barely concealed ire. The others were nice enough. Willy, his wife Stephanie, and a pretty brunette named Leah all grinned at her. Rico even drew her into a quick surprised hug before sitting back down in his seat.

The blonde, Brandi, however ran her eyes up and down Taryn in a frank assessment before seemingly dismissing her.

"She's just pissed that Ryu doesn't want her anymore," Stephanie said, leaning to whisper in Taryn's ear. "She wasn't even supposed to be here. She invited herself," she said giggling.

Taryn liked Stephanie immediately. The girl had a bubbly manner that was engaging.

Draco, who was talking to Rico and Willy, hadn't noticed the glares that Brandi was sending. He talked for several minutes before pulling out some money he and speaking to Taryn he said, "Hey, baby, will you go get me a drink? Grey Goose and pineapple?"

Taryn glanced at him a moment before nodding and taking the money from his hand. She had gotten into the pub okay, but she just knew as soon as she went to the bar she would be carded.

"I'll go with you," Stephanie said. "Do you want anything, hun?" she asked her husband.

"I want a scotch," Willy said, pulling money out of his pocket and handing it to his wife.

"Okay," Stephanie said, "We'll be back in a sec."

They were waiting for their drinks when Stephanie said. "Ryu really likes you. I can tell."

"Really?" Taryn asked. She was curious to know what others thought of them. People other than the people they saw everyday at school.

"You're kidding right? He can barely take eyes off of you," Stephanie said with a giggle. They glanced back at the table, and sure enough Draco's eyes were trained on her before he turned back into the conversation that he was having with Rico.

Taryn smiled, reaching for her drink. Surprisingly that they had filled the order without question. She almost jumped out of her skin, and definitely spilled her drink when a hand slapped her ass.

She had to stop herself from pulling out her wand, before turning to the offender.

He was obviously a bloke out from uni for the holidays living it up and getting pissed with his mates. He had artfully spiked black hair and was wearing a white polo and carefully pressed jeans. His blue eyes were glassy from a few too many drinks.

"Hey, hottie. You wanna get with this?" he asked, slurring the words. His friends laughed behind him at his antics.

"Ew, keep your fucking hands to yourself," Taryn said in disgust.

"Don't be like that, sexy. You know you want a lil of this," he said, leaning closer and blowing beer breath into her face, as he crudely grabbed at his crotch.

Wrinkling her nose, she stepped back, directly into Draco's hard chest.

Stephanie had obviously rushed over to apprise him of what was going on, and Taryn caught up in dodging the drunkard, hadn't even noticed the other girl slipping away.

"Back the fuck off," Draco said lowly. "This is my girl." He said pushing her gently behind him.

"Well, it looks like you aren't putting it to her right, or she wouldn't be all on my shit," spiky hair said.

"I wasn't...," Taryn began.

"Man, just walk away," Draco said, interrupting her assurance. "Its New Year's and unless you want to spend New Years Day in the hospital you better go," he finished calmly, directing his comment at Spiky.

Spiky puffed up in anger. "Do you know who I am, cocksucker?"

Draco calmly folded his arms over his chest. "Am I supposed to?"

"You should! Everybody else here does. I'll fucking kick your ass. I'm Ryu fuckin' Kovalic!"

The pub went immediately quiet, all but some snickering that Taryn was sure was coming from Rico.

Taryn's eyes widened behind Draco. What a dumbass, she thought, looking around Draco to Spiky, who was weaving slightly on his feet.

Draco calmly pulled his wallet out of his jacket, removing the license inside before tossing it to Spiky.

"What the...!" Spiky began, pulling the license close to read it, his mates leaning over his shoulder to get a look. It took a moment for his beer goggles to clear and register the print, but when it did his face turned beet red, and his mates began laughing loudly.

"That's what you get Sean, " one of them said. "Always talking shit!"

Spiky, now known as Sean, quickly handed the license back to Draco. "Sorry," he mumbled, his anger draining away as his face turned white in terror. "And sorry to you miss," he said in stuttering words directed to Taryn.

"Sorry, again," he said to Draco before he and his mates began walking to the door. They were gone soon thereafter.

"A Grey Goose and pineapple," Draco said quietly, turning his attention to the bartender, "And a Smirnoff Ice for my girl."

After they got their drinks they returned to the table. Rico, who had barely been able to hold in his snickers, erupted into laughter as they sat down.

"Did you fucking see his face! I thought he was gonna piss his pants! Don't need you fucking up college kids tonight, little brother," Rico said laughing.

"Didn't have to," Draco said, leaning back in his chair and sipping his drink.

Taryn looked at the bottle she held for a moment, before bringing it to her mouth. The sweet taste with the hint of alcohol was pleasant and better than she expected.

They all talked for hours following the brief 'altercation', cheering happily at midnight. Taryn rang in the New Year with her lips against Draco's.

A few hours later, they returned to the apartment, which she soon out found that he shared with Rico. She went to the loo to wash the makeup from her face, and returning to the bedroom, she pulled on the soft tee-shirt that Draco had laid out for her. They hadn't exactly discussed her sleeping over, but she knew that it would be okay, it was a given. And honestly, she slept better when she was in his arms.

She snuggled into the blankets, with his strong arms around her, and breathed in his warm scent. Tomorrow they would start the new year with no more secrets between them. She just hoped that she would be as contented then as she was now. Sleep soon claimed her, taking her worries with it.

* * *

AN: The incident between Draco and Spiky is based on an actual event that happened to Pat Miletich and was written about in the book **Blood in the cage : mixed martial arts, Pat Miletich, and the furious rise of the UFC ****by L. Jon Wertheim.** I laughed out loud when I read it and just had to incorporate something similar. As always thanks for reading. Review please. :D


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

The sunlight breaking through the cracks of his blinds drew him from the warm comfort of his sleep. It had been the most restful night that he'd had in ages, and he was loath to end it.

Taryn was snuggled against his side, her cinnamon hair streaming over his pillows. He turned his head to breathe in her soft vanilla scent. He placed a kiss against her bare shoulder, which had escaped from the neckline of his tee-shirt, before gently untangling himself from her arms. He pulled the covers more snugly against her, smiling a bit when she burrowed into their warmth.

Jumping in the shower, he stood under the hot pounding water letting it get rid of the lingering muzziness of sleep. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he quickly went back to his room and slipped on a pair of black sweats before heading to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

He was sitting down at the small kitchen table, listening to the coffee pot gurgle and pop as hot water began to stream into the carafe, when Rico's voice startled him.

"Morning, bro," Rico said sleepily, his eyes half mast. He sat down heavily across from Draco, his hand against his forehead, obviously nursing a hangover.

"Morning," Draco said lowly in return, his voice a bit raspy from disuse.

Rico sat down in the chair across from Draco at the small square table. He drummed his hands against the wood for a moment before speaking. "So, did Taryn sleep over?"

"Yeah," Draco said yawning.

"She seems nice," Rico said carefully.

Draco looked at him sharply. He was wary of the tone that Rico was using. "Yeah, she is. What about it?"

"Nothing really, its just that she isn't your usual type. I mean, she really is a nice girl, I can tell. She doesn't seem like the type that will just let you fuck her and then leave," Rico said bluntly.

Draco grimaced. Well, at least Rico always keeps it real with me, he thought. "I don't know, man. We just click I guess. She isn't like the other girls to me. They didn't really mean anything. I wasn't a total ass to them, but all of them knew that it wasn't anything more than sex. Taryn is on a whole different level. I mean, I'm considering shit that I never thought I would. I know that she is too good for me, and I'm being selfish by staying with her. I really want her as long as she wants to be with me."

Draco looked surprised at what he'd revealed. Rico could tell that this was the first time that Draco had allowed his feelings to be articulated. He'd all but said that he was in love with the girl.

"Well, Brandi was pretty pissed," Rico said, changing the topic. "I'm surprised that steam didn't blow out of her ears when Taryn walked in with you. You should have heard the things that came out of her mouth when you left with Taryn. I bet she had a whole plan to either go back with you, or get you back to her flat.

"Brandi wasn't invited anyway. She is really starting to get on my nerves. What did she expect? I haven't shagged her since way before I went to school, hell, I haven't even called her. Fuck, between her here, and Pansy back at school...I can't catch a break," Draco grumbled, standing to pour himself a cup of coffee. Despite, being a bad ass, Draco liked his coffee milky and very sweet, a fact that Rico made fun of often, thinking it far more manly to drink the brew black.

"Damn, bro, you want some coffee with that milk and sugar?" Rico joked without fail.

"Just because you like the shit black and strong enough to peel paint, doesn't mean I gotta suffer and do the same," Draco ribbed right back.

This is nice, he thought to himself. Staying with his brother always seemed to put him back in the right frame of mind. He could drop the Malfoy exterior for a moment and just be the person that he actually was.

"You know what is bothering me the most?" Draco asked, turning the conversation back to Taryn.

"What?" Rico asked curiously.

"I'm kind of having a jealousy issue," Draco mumbled.

That surprised a laugh from Rico. "You are having a jealousy issue? You?"

Draco scowled. "Don't laugh, I'm serious."

Rico sobered. "You've just been bitten by the bug. You love her."

Draco blinked owlishly. "No, its not just that," he said, not realizing that he had agreed with his brother's statement,"I just about took this guys head off at school when he said he wanted her. I want to rip off the head, and piss down the neck of any guy who looks at her more than five minutes. Its just not normal."

Rico was wide eyed. He'd thought that the incident last night with the spiky haired guy was out of the ordinary, but since it had also been funny as hell he hadn't let it trouble him overly much. "Maybe you should talk to her about it," he suggested.

"I'm going to have to, I guess," Draco said, before sipping at his coffee. "We are supposed to talk about our relationship today."

Rico grimaced at Draco's statement. No guy ever really wanted to talk about the relationship he was having. It usually spelled trouble. If it was going well, why did you have to talk about it? Usually it often boiled down to what the bloke was doing wrong and how he should improve. Rico shuddered. He was glad he wasn't in his brother's shoes.

"Rico," a sleepy feminine voice called, "You coming back to bed sweetums?"

"Sweetums?" Draco asked with a snicker, eying his brother.

"Fuck off," he whispered fiercely at Draco, scowling as Draco continued to laugh. "Yeah, I'll be back in a second," Rico called out in a much gentler tone than he had used with Draco.

"Leah?" Draco asked Rico with one eyebrow risen,when he had gained control of himself.

"Yeah, that's her," Rico said, actually flushing a bit.

"You pulling a repeat?" Draco asked, slightly astonished. Rico was even more of a player than he was, and he didn't usually hook up with a girl more than once.

"Yeah, well, You think you have the monopoly on girlfriends?" Rico asked defensively.

Draco's brow raised at his brother using the term girlfriend. "No, mate, I'm just a little surprised. How long have you been going with her?"

"About a month," Rico said, surprising Draco further. "I met her at that coffee shop around the corner. You know, the one with the good cinnamon rolls? It was really just coincidence that she worked at Bianchi's too. She had actually just started a couple of days before we met. I really like her though. She didn't know all the shit about me at first and it was nice to talk to a girl that didn't just want to fuck me cuz I'm a fighter. I mean, yeah, I can get pussy whenever I want, but sometimes that shit gets old, you know?"

"I know what you mean," was all Draco said in reply. He really did understand. If someone had asked him a few months ago if he'd be contemplating a monogamous relationship he'd have laughed in their face. Now though, he thought, looking back toward his bedroom where Taryn was sleeping peacefully, it wasn't such a bizarre notion. He stood with a stretch, drained his coffee cup, and headed back to his bedroom.

Taryn was still asleep, but she had obviously gotten hot, because the covers were kicked away from her body and spilled over the side of the bed. Either that, or without him in the bed to keep the covers where they aught to be, she had allowed her wild sleeping patterns to deprive her of the comfort of the blankets.

She stirred slightly, her forehead wrinkling, when he placed a gentle kiss near her hairline. He pushed his fingers in her soft hair. "Wake up baby," he said softly.

"Just five more minutes mum," she mumbled under her breath.

Draco's lips quirked in amusement at her statement. His hand ran down to rub against her back softly. He had learned that Taryn needed to wake up gently if he didn't want to suffer the wrath of her grumpiness in the morning.

"Come, on baby. If you get up now I'll make you breakfast," he cajoled.

Taryn's eyes popped open as her muzziness faded and the masculine voice that was speaking to her clicked in her mind. She obviously wasn't in her room at home. The events of the previous night came back to her and she popped upright in the bed.

"Shit! Nigel and Jillian are going to be so worried!" She pushed back the covers and stood, giving Draco a glimpse of very shapely legs as she began to scan the floor.

"Have you seen my wand?" She asked frantically.

"You call your parents Nigel and Jillian?" Draco asked, slightly amused. She looked rather cute in her panicked state as she began to pick through the discarded clothes that littered the floor.

"It's just a thing I do...ugh...never mind. Have you seen my wand?" She asked again.

"Check your coat pocket," Draco suggested, motioning to the leather jacket hanging on the back of his desk chair.

"Good idea," she said, sighing in relief when she pulled the wand from the inside coat pocket.

"Voce coniungere," she said, her wand making a practiced sideways sweeping motion.

Draco walked quickly to his door, shutting it firmly as a wavering circle began to appear in the air, growing clearer and clearer until the face of an older gentleman was revealed. A face that was equal parts angry and worried. Draco respectfully stood off to the side, unsure of whether or not Taryn wanted him seen.

"Taryn! Where the hell are you? I can't believe that you would leave the benefit like that! Do you know how worried Jillian and I have been? Where are you? Where have you been all night? Sasha told us a crazy story about you leaving with some bloke who I later found out was Draco Malfoy! His family is full of Death Eaters! He could do anything to you! I won't allow–"

"Dad," Taryn interrupted, "Stop. I'm fine, and I'm sorry that I worried you, but I don't regret leaving. Sasha was being an utter ass. He spent the short time that we were there pawing me and trying to get me into bed. I know that that really doesn't excuse me leaving without your knowledge, and I apologize for that, but I don't regret leaving with Draco. You don't know him like I do. He would never hurt me. Regardless of what some of his family might be doing, he would _never ever_ hurt me. I think I am a pretty good judge of character, and I wish you would trust me."

She didn't see Draco bow his head in shame. She was defending him without even knowing that he really was a Death Eater, one that was plotting murder and lying to her everyday that he didn't tell her. He was doing only what he thought he had to, but the fact that she was defending him both warmed him and cut him to ribbons. He didn't deserve her trust.

"I would trust your judgment more if you didn't act like a child," Nigel was saying.

Taryn sighed. She could see that the conversation wasn't going to go well. "Why don't we talk about this more when I get home?"

"What do you mean _when_ you get home?" Nigel said angrily. "You need to get home this instant! If you don't–"

Taryn waved her wand again, ending the the connection before Nigel could finish his sentence. She turned to Draco. "I'm sorry about that. I guess I just didn't think about how it would look when we left the way we did," she said glumly.

Draco realized that he hadn't either, and closed his eyes for a moment at his stupidity. He'd probably placed a target on her back because he couldn't control his stupid jealousy. Being involved at school was entirely different from being involved at a wizarding high society party. At best his mother would probably be expecting an engagement announcement. At worst he'd have to present her to the Dark Lord. Fuck that, he thought, I'll slit my fucking wrists before I bring her to him.

"Well, I guess its about time you realized what being with me might bring," Draco said darkly. "Maybe we shouldn't do this Taryn."

He was going to do it. If she wanted out, he was going to give it to her. He examined the UFC poster on his wall, as he waited for her to drop the bomb.

He was surprised when he felt her soft hands clasp his, before reaching up to turn his face to hers. She tiptoed, placing a soft kiss against his lips. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry that you had to hear my dad talk about you like that. And no."

"No?" he repeated. "No to what?"

"No you don't get to do this again. I'm old enough to make my own decisions about who I want to be with, and you don't get to put this on my shoulders. If you don't want to be with me then just say it. I can handle it. I won't be happy about it, but I can handle it."

"Look, about what you dad said...It's nothing that I haven't heard before," he said, ignoring her statement about their relationship. He wasn't ready to touch that yet.

Taryn frowned. She didn't like the evasion, but she decided to let it slide for now. "I don't care if you have heard it before. I don't like it being said about you and I won't have the people in my life saying it to you."

His lips quirked sadly at her statement.

It was quiet for a moment before she asked, "What were you doing at the charity ball anyway?"

"Mum is always involved with something. She even used to be on the Hogwarts school board, at least until my second year. She roped me into attending. It's just one of the obligations that she has as a society type," he said.

"Really? You don't consider yourself a society type?" She asked, one brow rising in question.

"I consider myself a society prisoner," he quipped, "but yeah, my Mum is going through a tough time. If it makes her feel better that I show up for a few minutes then I can oblige her," he said.

He began to think about more of the aspects of the party. He felt the words coming to his mouth and couldn't stop them if he had tried. "Who was that bloke you were there with?"

"He's just a friend of the family," Taryn said carefully. She didn't know how best to explain Sasha when she hadn't even explained herself.

Draco's eyes began to glint. "He seemed to think that he was way more than a friend. At least judging by that lover comment," he said lowly.

Taryn wanted to scream in exasperation. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I can say with all honesty that Sasha has never been _my _lover." She hoped that he didn't catch the emphasis on the word my.

It was time for their talk. She was beyond tired of dodging the verbal landmines. She ran a hand through her hair, before pulling out her wand, looping her hair up and sticking her wand in the bun to secure it. "I think that it might be time for our talk. It might clear up a few things at best."

Draco looked suddenly apprehensive. He didn't know what was coming, but if she was going to be straight with him, then he was going to have to do the same. It was time, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to make one last attempt to stall.

"Are you sure that you don't want breakfast first? I make pretty awesome waffles," he said jokingly, trying in vain to diffuse the sudden tension that had clouded the room.

"I don't think I can get all of this out if I take the time to eat, but if you still want to cook me breakfast after I tell you this then I would love to try your waffles," Taryn said, smiling sadly.

Draco's brow crinkled in confusion. What could she have to tell him that was so bad?

Taryn's eyes closed for a moment, before opening and staring intently into his. "I'm not sure where to begin. This is going to sound crazy to you, and even if you believe me, which would be unbelievable in and of itself, you probably wont want to talk to me after. I've done some completely horrible things that you might not forgive me for."

"Can you just come and sit by me?" she asked when he didn't say anything. She grasped his hand and pulled him to sit beside her on the unmade bed.

"I guess I should start by telling you that I'm not who you think I am."

Draco stared at her as crazy thoughts began to go through his mind. "Polyjuice?" he asked hoarsely. Logically he knew that that couldn't be the case. They spent so much time together that he would have noticed her steadily drinking the potion.

"No!," Taryn exclaimed, before she sighed tiredly. "There isn't a way to gently lead into this, I guess, so I'm going to have to just say it. I'm not Tracey Davis. I look like her, and sound like her. I even dance like her, but I am not her. I'm Hermione Granger," she said in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Draco stared at her in shock for a moment.

"Baby, you're just tired," Draco began.

"No," Taryn interrupted, standing, her body rigid with tension. "Its true."

"Taryn. Maybe we should take you to St. Mungo's. That accident you had...Well I've had enough knocks to the head to know that sometimes it can leave you in a weird place, but baby you can't be her. She's dead remember?" Draco spoke to her gently. He wasn't sure what to do with this. When he'd imagined the talk that they'd have, her revealing that she was a dead girl definitely hadn't figured into the equation.

Taryn winced at his statement. Well, at least he didn't just call her insane outright. "Merlin...You didn't know me well enough when I was Hermione. This would be so much easier if you had, but please...just listen. I need to get all of this out, and if you don't believe me or want me after I promise I'll leave and never bother you again." And she would, even if it would break her heart.

Draco nodded. Obviously she was going through something and despite the craziness that was coming out of her mouth he felt compelled to listen. What would be the point?

"I know it sounds insane, but I am Hermione. Hermione Jean Granger. I grew up in London. My parents, Daniel and Claire, are both dentists. I went to St. Mary's Catholic Primary School up until I was got my letter from Hogwarts. My parents, being Muggles, were rather shocked, but it did explain some of the odd things that seemed to happen to me and around me."

"I was excited and scared shitless all at the same time. I've always liked learning and it was literally a whole new world just opening to me, but it changed when I finally arrived at school. It wasn't the fairy tale that I expected it to be. I wasn't just another student. I was Muggle-born at best and Mudblood at worst. I made the decision to do the best that I could to excel at everything thrown at me." She took a breath, not meeting his eyes as she began to pace the room.

"Its not easy to make friends when you are labeled the know-it-all. Harry, and Ron especially, disliked me at first. It took me almost being killed by a troll in the girl's lavatory before we actually became friends. Being their friend kind of gave my life purpose, because frankly I was floundering. I mean, I was a little girl that had dreamed her whole life of becoming a teacher, or maybe a lawyer. Instead I was girl thrown into a culture that I knew nothing about, and one that an entire group of people that already hated me purely on principle. Eventually, though, I found my place. Harry was really like the brother I never had, and Ron...well I wasn't sure what we were or what we might have been."

Draco watched her quietly. She wounded so earnest...he was even beginning to slightly believe her, but if it was true it did bring up several questions. He opened his mouth to ask those, but she held up one hand.

"Please, just let me finish. I haven't even gotten to the worse part yet. First I want you to know that I love you."

Draco had to break in on this. "Hermione Granger would have never loved me. In fact, I'm pretty sure that she hated me."

"No, she didn't – I didn't," Taryn amended. "I don't think that I ever truly hated you. I won't mince words...I disliked you loads. You just rubbed me the wrong way. I know that I did the same to you."

It was true. Draco had disliked Hermione Granger with an intensity that she really hadn't merited. Yes, she had been a know-it-all like she had said, but she really hadn't been any worse than anyone else. Part of the reason was that she was friends with Harry Potter, and that was the one bloke that he couldn't stand. Another part, if he was being perfectly honest, was that he had thought that she was attractive. Not in the in your face sort of way, but she had been, and it had pissed him off that he had thought so since she had hated him so much. That and the fact that girls hating him wasn't something that he had ever been used to.

She ran a hand through her hair before speaking once more. "I died in the Department of Mysteries. I was hit with a curse cast by Antonin Dolohov. It wasn't as blessedly fast as the killing curse, and I felt every scrap of agony running through my body until I finally died. When I woke up I was in a place that wasn't a place, and I spoke to a person who wasn't a person. They gave me a choice. To come back as someone else or to go to Heaven."

"Why didn't you just go to Heaven," Draco blurted out. It was the only thing that he could think to say that might stave the panic that was roiling through him at the thought of her hurt or dead. He had to breathe deeply for a few minutes before returning his attention back to her.

"I felt like I had left things unfinished. I wasn't ready to die yet, and when they gave me the choice, I took it. I didn't care who I had to be or where I was placed. I just wanted to come back and help Harry. To help the cause."

"You haven't been helping him. You've been with me. That is pretty much the exact opposite of helping Potter," Draco said bluntly, his mouth drawn into a line.

Taryn's face crumpled, and fat tears began to course down her face. "The thing is, I intended to help Harry all along. I didn't know how I was going to do that at first. At first I was horrified to learn that I was in Slytherin House, practically surrounded by those that would hate me for sure if they knew who I was, it was only later that I saw it as a golden opportunity. After I realized that Harry suspected you..." she took a deep breath, "I was going to spy on you. To get as close to you as I could, and tell Harry anything that seemed important."

Draco stood abruptly. "Spy for Potter...That's why you..." He shut his eyes for a moment. It felt like he was standing in a swirling miasma of emotion. Confusion, betrayal, and Merlin help him, love all warred with each other within him. "Does Potter know just how far you will go to help the cause, as you call it? That you made yourself into a whore for him?" he asked bitterly, but as soon as he said the word he wanted to call it back. Her stricken face literally made him hurt inside.

"I suppose that I deserve that, but I didn't betray you. Harry doesn't know anything," she said, wiping her tears away on the sleeve of his black shirt she was still wearing.

"What about that day in the library? What were you telling him then? Trying to convince him that you were Hermione too? Or were you just laughing at how easily I was manipulated?"

"Please," she said brokenly, "Just listen. Let me finish. I didn't tell him anything. Nobody but you knows who I am. They didn't give me a choice. I wasn't allowed to reveal myself to anyone. This only recently changed but I could only tell one person, and you were the only person that I wanted to tell. I'm putting my life in your hands, because I know. I know, Draco."

He didn't need to ask what she knew. The look on her face said it all, and while he was only doing what he though he should, he felt ashamed to be laid so bare in front of her. He had been so careful. How did she know? "How?"

"I...I overheard you and Snape talking. I pieced it together."

"Should I expect the authorities to be here shortly?" he asked, leaning his head forward and rubbing the back of his neck in fatigue. His shoulder's slumped as he turned away.

"No. I haven't told anyone, and I don't intend to."

He whipped back to her. "Why? Why haven't you told? Because you love me?" He allowed the glamour to fade from the skin of his forearm and held it up for her to see. "That doesn't change the reality of this. This mark was etched into my skin willingly. You've never been a thick girl, Hermione," He watched her knee-jerk reaction to the use of her true name. "Why not give me up to the Ministry? I'm sure they would love to rip secrets from me, and not in so pleasing a manner as you have."

He needed to get her away from him. He could pretend that it wasn't wrong to have her around him when he was anything but good, but her revelations had ripped away the pretense, leaving it to shatter and burn. He would do anything, say anything if it meant keeping her safe.

She walked to him again, reaching a hand out tentatively to touch his bicep and seemingly drawing hope when he didn't pull away. "I lied about many things, but it wasn't a lie when I told you that I love you, but you need to be honest as well. I'm not the only one here with secrets and lies upon lies. We both are damaged, and I think that the only way that we can be whole is with each other."

She moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest.

"You need to leave Taryn," he murmured, but his actions belied his words. He was drawing her closer as well, wishing there was nothing between them. Simply his skin on hers. "This is your last chance. If you don't go now I won't ever be able to let you go," he said quietly.

"There isn't anywhere else that I want to be. I want to hear something from you," she said her voice muffled against his chest.

"What?" he asked warily. He imagined her asking him to do all sorts of things, the worst being asked to befriend Potter, but he was shocked by what she actually wanted from him, though he shouldn't have been. It was what every woman wanted to hear from the man she loved.

"I want to hear you say it. At least once. I know you are. I know you feel it," she said softly.

If she was looking at him, she would have seen his face, for once unguarded in emotion. "I'll say it when I'm worthy of you." He knew that it wasn't the exact admission that she wanted, but it was all that he could offer in this moment. He couldn't believe that she was here in his arms, knowing what he was, and loving him regardless.

Leaning back, she looked into his eyes. He could tell that she wasn't completely satisfied, but was content to leave it for the moment. "So, what do we do next?" She asked.

He only drew her closer again, and they stood for several minutes in silence.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

The flickering overhead light had almost a strobe effect, but lit the hallway enough for Severus to easily make his way to the room he had rented for the night.

He hated staying in muggle hotels, mostly because he had to be careful using magic and he felt stifled when he had to do so. Very like cutting off his arm. However, the pay off was worth it. No one would think to look for him in this place, especially agents of the Dark Lord.

Digging into the black leather satchel he held, he removed his key and entered his room. He flipped on the light switch, and did a quick scan of his immediate surroundings. Seeing nothing amiss, he locked the door firmly behind him before heading to the bathroom to check for anything – or anyone – harmful.

When he was confident that there were no unsavory elements to be found, he crossed the room, and quickly drew the curtains across the large window that looked down onto the busy Moscow streets.

He took a moment to look around the room, his lip curled in slight disgust. The carpet was dirty, and the wallpaper peeling, and he would wager that the scent of cigarettes would forever be imbedded in the heavy curtains that hung on the large window. He didn't even want begin to guess as to what microscopic organisms lived upon the dingy looking comforter that graced the bed.

The walls were paper thin. He could hear a hacking cough coming from the room to his left, and to his right he could tell that the prostitute next door was running a brisk trade, as evidenced by the rhythmic sound of the headboard hitting against the wall.

Pulling out his wand, he cast a blanket Scourgify to the room. Next he placed a strong ward on the door. It would keep muggles away, but anyone with enough magic and determination could eventually bypass its strength. It was merely a warning of sorts. It would give him just enough time to apparate from the premises and that was all he really needed.

Lastly, and for good measure, he laid Praeligo charms against each wall. The spells would muffle any sounds that might have made its way to eavesdropper ears.

Once he was sure that the room was reasonably protected and cleansed, he kicked off his heavy boots and sat down at the small table in front of the window.

Opening his satchel, he pulled out a small, rune covered stone bowl, setting it carefully on the scarred table.

It was a miniature pensieve, but it hadn't the specifications of the larger types. It was scaled down for portability and only played the audio of the memories contained within.

It had taken days of study, both in the Hogwarts library and in the Ministries dusty collection of tomes before he had gotten a lead on Draco's "father".

There were only a few beings with enough power to bypass the ancients wards he knew to be placed upon Malfoy manor.

It had been a tiny story in one of the bestiaries a previous Slytherin Head of House had added to the personal collection that had led him to Russia.

The Chuvashian Dragon.

Not a typical dragon to be sure. This particular dragon hadn't been seen for an age, and was said to be a myth. He differed from the other ten types of dragons, because he wasn't a dragon at all.

The large, silver scaled dragon was said to be only one of his forms, but that he was a true shapeshifter, able to take human form in any guise of his choosing. His origins were a mystery.

It was also said that he used this power to seduce married human women. Women who were discontent in their marriages. Sometimes children were born of the union, but they didn't live long beyond their sixteenth year. It was thought that the power within them was not meant for human bodies, and that they often burned out from the sheer power that their fragile bodies couldn't contain.

The progeny of the Chuvashian Dragon and human women were powerful, attractive, and charismatic. It was as if their power and beauty was seen as an affront to the gods, and in retribution they were cursed to die young. Of course, all of this was based on legend and tales, and not firm irrefutable logic. At least not to Muggles. A wizard knew what to discount and what to take as a seed of truth.

Because of this, many a wizard – and witch – had tried to find the Chuvashian Dragon themselves. The search for this being, in certain circles, was unending. It was akin to the Muggle's continuous search for their legendary Arc of the Covenant. There would always be someone interested in the search.

That was what had brought Severus to the area. He knew that he had to be certain. If Draco was indeed the son of this being, Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to use him until he burned out.

Severus had to find the truth. If he didn't Draco would die. Either by Voldemort's use, or by the fact of his alleged heritage.

The weight of one more responsibility on his shoulders was heavy enough to crack his spine, and though he cursed himself at his weakness, he reached back into his satchel. His hand trembled in hesitation for a moment before he removed a small bag of dried brilliantly blue leaves.

Doli 'Ele.

He hadn't smoked the addicting blue leaves since Lily died. When he realized what he would have to do to make amends for his part in her death, the need for the drifting numbness the drug afforded him had left abruptly. He hadn't quit exactly, more the drive to smoke had faded, the root that aided its hold was gone, and he had felt that it would dishonor her memory to continue.

Their relationship hadn't been what people assumed. He had loved Lily, yes, but he hadn't been in love with her. She had been his cherished friend, the closest thing he had to a sister. It still pained him that he had let his pride separate them. He had let his arrogance deprive him of the best friend he had ever had.

In his youth he had blamed James, and to be honest, a part of him still did. But at the end of the day, in the darkness of the night, he couldn't hide the truth from himself. The truth that kept him awake, starring at the canopy of his uncomfortable Hogwarts bed.

It had been his fault. He had spurned her overtures of friendship, the invitation to her wedding, the christening of her son. To be sure, that he had been following Voldemort was part of the reason, but that was mostly his excuse. He wasn't wanted by anyone else in her circle, so he made for himself a place in another, and in that place he had excelled, and still continued to do so.

He hadn't cared what Voldemort was after. He could give a shit about the man's ideals or goals. He had merely liked the fact that he belonged. He winced now at the thought of how easily he'd sold his soul and how he would still be doing so if not for the threat against Lily and her family.

He had thought for a time that he had buried his bitterness at the estrangement, but he knew that it was the Doli 'Ele, the cloudy tendrils that had swirled within his brain, numbing the pain when it grew to large for him to ignore. Indeed the only thing that still kept him away from the drug was his determination to see his task through.

It amazed him at how easily he could break his resolve, throwing away the years he had been clean.

Sweet Doli 'Ele. He sprinkled the blue leaves on the small square of paper, licking the edge and wrapping it around its precious contents.

Just this once, he said to himself, as he drew the smoke into his mouth, the sweet taste of burned sugar against his tongue.

He allowed the smoke to fill his lungs, sending a warm shiver through his body as tense muscles began to relax, before he blew out a cloud of the sparkling smoke.

Finally he turned his attention to the pensieve, resting his wand against his temple to remove a silvery strand of memory. He watched as the tendril curled down into the bowl, rippling a moment, before smoothing over.

Shura's soft Russian accent rose quietly in the room.

"...the child?"

"Yes, the story indicated that there was a child," Snape heard his own voice say.

"Are you sure that you are interested in this story? You do realize that I am not a descendent of that child? I think most of it a fable, a cautionary tale based on my ancestress, yet written by men to keep a woman in her place. She was only one of such documented cases. How did you find me anyway?"

"I am a scholar. It wasn't very hard to trace the family tree. Your grandmother was a notorious figure of sorts, her descendents are well documented, though I do admit that I had to go through many false leads before I happened upon your branch of the family."

"I can't say that I am ungrateful. I could use the money for sure. Textbooks cost me dearly, and any money that goes toward the purchase of them is helpful, but I feel that I am taking advantage of you."

"Please, let me be the judge of that. All I ask of you is that you be honest."

"It may be quicker if you tell me the version that you have heard. I can then tell you whether or not our stories match and provide what was omitted."

"I know that your ancestress came to Chuvashia from a foreign land with her husband. That he was a missionary that was chosen to bring the word to the people in the villages of the area. I know that she was said to have given birth to a supernatural child. A child of one of the "Old Gods". I just would like you to provide the human element, rather than the cold hard facts."

"As you wish. Her name was Catriona and her husband was called Thomas. She was, I believe, fifteen years of age at the beginning of their marriage, and he was nearly forty. She was said to be a beauty with waving raven hair, kind dark eyes, and milky skin. Perhaps that was what got her into the marriage. She had been born to a poor family and it was a rise in her status to be married to a man of the cloth even if she didn't love him. She was eighteen when they arrived."

There was a pause before Shura continued. "Thomas often left Cat to her own devices as he traveled throughout the area. She was expected to keep hearth and home, and as the tale goes became discontent in her lot, though she tried to remain the dutiful wife. She spent her days tending to the sick, giving food to the poor, and listening to the woes of others. Thomas, unlike his wife, was not well liked in the area. The people resented his presence. They wanted to keep the worship of the Old Gods."

Snape sped through this next bit, which included the waiter coming to ask them if the would like another beverage, or perhaps something to eat. He listened to the tinny, sped up voices before stopping at the proper place.

"It happened the during their second winter," Shura spoke, "Thomas came back to his wife and made love to her as never before. The next morning she woke with a bright new hope for her marriage setting warmly in her chest."

"You have the skill of a true storyteller," Snape had interrupted. He remembered the pink blush that graced her face at his compliment.

"Yes, well, it helps that I know the story by heart I suppose," she had said modestly.

"Please, go on," Snape had urged.

"Well, you know, since you read the tale where this is going."

"I'd like to hear you tell it just the same. There are parts that I'm sure are missing from the story that only you, or your family know."

"I'm sure. History doesn't paint my ancestress in the best light," Shura had said, before taking a sip of her tea. "Where was I? Oh yes. Cat woke the next morning to find the house cold, her husband nowhere in the vicinity. She assumed that he had gone to the nearby village, and so when it came time for supper she grew worried when he didn't show. It was not until the following morning that Thomas returned to their small home. He began to tell her stories of his journey, and from this she surmised that it had not been her husband that she had lain with. Shortly thereafter she found that she was with child. She grew frightened, and made excuses to see the wise woman in the village, lying because she knew that her husband would not approve of her visiting a woman that he considered a witch. Nonetheless, she went to the woman, and shared her predicament. She begged the woman to help her rid herself of the child. She considered it a mortal sin, but she also knew that Thomas would know that the child was not his. They had tried for many years to conceive, but to no avail, and Thomas was a sharp man. She couldn't confess what had happened. He would think her mad at best, or a witch conspiring with the devil at worse."

"But the child _was_ born correct?" Snape had asked.

"Yes. The wise woman managed to get Cat to confess the whole story. She was a gentle woman, and though people looked down on her for her trade, she always helped those who came to her in need. I believe that she would have agreed to help Cat, but when the entire story was revealed she grew frightened and told her that she could not help her abort the child. That it was a child of the Old Gods. She was thrown from her home, and branded an adulteress when it became known that she was with child. The people of the village gathered around her, when her husband left her to her own devices. He eventually left the area, and Cat, returning to his homeland. She gave birth shortly after he left."

"Was it a son or daughter?" Snape had asked quietly.

"It was a daughter. She was said to be beautiful, with the waving dark hair of her mother and dove grey eyes that glowed silver. Her name was Diana, and she was revered within the village. She had her mother's gentle nature and the village seemed to flourish after her birth."

"But you don't come from her line, correct?" Snape had asked.

"No, she died shortly before her seventeenth birthday. As the tale goes, she grew ill, and wasted away. I am descended from the little brother that my grandmother had after she married a man in the village."

"No one knows what killed her?"

"If they did, that knowledge wasn't passed down to me. All I know is that it only affected her, and no one else. I told you that I didn't have much to impart that you probably already don't know," she had said apologetically.

The memory ended there. Snape had thanked her for her time and paid her that agreed upon fee.

Now all he had to do was wait. If Draco began to sicken then he would have his proof, though he didn't yet have a plan to implement if that happened. This could be disastrous, or it could be the turn in the war that was desperately needed.

* * *

0o0

"What made you take the mark Draco?" Taryn asked.

They were reclining in his bed, an old episode of Friends on the telly providing background noise to the otherwise quiet room. The apartment was equally silent. Rico and Leah, after sharing breakfast with them, had left, and she felt it was the time to finish their discussion.

She was sitting in between his legs, her back cuddled against his chest, snuggling into his warmth.

Draco's hand, which had been gently running through her hair, paused. "I don't want to tell you," he said quietly. When she stiffened he added, "Not because I don't trust you with the knowledge, but because I'm afraid of what it could mean for us."

She turned in his arms so she could see his face. "Draco, I love you. I fell in love you when I knew that there were things in your life that I might not like. I _still_ love you, even after finding out that you're marked. I won't lie to you and say that I'm okay with it, but I know you. There had to be an important reason behind the decision."

He took in a shuddering breath before he began to speak quietly. "I purposely kept most of the details about my life secret from you, but the most important things – the parts that make me who I am – those you know. The person I am with you right now is who I am. The person that you see when we are at school is a necessity, and only that."

"If this is going to make sense to you then you have to understand what my life has been like up to this point. I wont say that I had an unloved childhood, it really wasn't like that. My mother loves me, sometimes a little too much. I'm pretty much her entire world. I know that it doesn't mesh with what you know of her, but she _is_ a loving mother but she isn't a strong woman. My father, well, he loves me too, but he loves power more. I've always know it. I've never understood him, and I doubt that I ever will. He and my mother made decisions that I don't agree with, and," He stopped for a moment, his arms tightening around her a bit, "shit, it just fuckin' pisses me off. I'm so angry all of the time. The choices they made for their lives have defined mine, and even though I want to get away, something always draws me back in. I can't just cut them off. At the end of the day they are my family."

Taryn had pulled one his hands into her own and was softly tracing the skin, silently offering her support.

"I don't want you to think less of me, but I have to be honest. I did take the mark willingly, but only because in that moment I felt like I didn't have a choice. I don't want to follow Voldemort. He's insane. He's a fuckin' megalomaniac and a sadist to boot. He wanted to punish us for my father's failure to get that prophesy. Dad is in Azkaban, and since he wasn't an option then he threatened my mother. He said he'd turn her into his pet," Draco's eyes closed at this. "The night I took the mark, he had one of his "pets" in the room. She was naked, beaten, collared and tethered by a heavy chain, but it was her eyes that continue to haunt me. They were empty. She was broken, and I'd kill before I let that happen to my mother, so I took the mark and agreed to do just that."

"You agreed to kill? Who did you agree to kill?" Taryn asked carefully. Merlin, she hoped that he wouldn't say Harry. Or Ron, or countless others. In fact, she wished that he hadn't agreed to anything, but she knew that he had felt trapped.

"Dumbledore," Draco said quietly, "I have until the end of the year to complete my task."

Taryn stiffened with a gasp. When she calmed, she asked in an even tone, "Have you tried?"

Draco buried his face in her hair. "I have. Once, but it was unsuccessful. I'm not a complete idiot. I know that I haven't a chance in Hell of taking Dumbledore on face to face. He'd end me shortly, and I know it. I had to try something else, so I bought a cursed necklace..."

Taryn interrupted at this. "The one that Katie Bell almost died handling?"

"Yes, but she wasn't supposed to have it at all. I arranged for it to be delivered to Dumbledore. I took precautions, but obviously they weren't enough."

Taryn wriggled free from his arms, turning around to sit cross legged in front of him on the bed. She needed to look in his eyes for the question she wanted to ask him. "Draco, I said I love you, and I really meant that, but I need you to be honest with me. You don't _want _to kill Dumbledore do you?"

"No, I don't," he said quietly, "I'm not a good guy Taryn, I never have been. You asked for honesty, so I'll give it to you. No, I don't want to kill Dumbledore, but I will if I have to. If it ensures the safety of you and my mother, then I'll do it in a minute."

"We could go to him. We could explain what is happening. Maybe he could do something," she said, her tone heart wrenching.

"You really think that he would help the person who agreed to kill him? One that has already attempted to do so?" Draco said bitterly.

"I do," she said quietly, "If you are sincere, then I think he'll help us. I can have a talk with him, but I'll need you there."

"No, I don't want you to become any more involved in this," Draco said firmly.

"Its too late for that. A billboard in Diagon Alley would have been more subtle then our exit from the ball. I'm sure Rita Skeeter has already written about us in that stupid gossip column that she tries to pass off as journalism," Taryn added.

She frowned. Her blackmail against Rita wouldn't even work now. The girl that had had leverage over the reporter was dead, and the noose around the woman's neck had been removed. Taryn cringed at the thought of the articles that the woman would begin to write again.

"I haven't forgotten that. It's another reason why you shouldn't want to be with me. I've pinned a target against your back. Only other Deatheaters know for sure that I am among their ranks, but I have no doubt that others have guessed."

"I realize that," Taryn said quietly. "I know that Pansy isn't the only one that will call me your whore."

"Baby," Draco began, "I didn't mean it when I said that. I was angry. It's just...I get so fuckin' jealous. I can't stand the thought of you with any other guys. That Sasha bloke...Felix...Krum...even fuckin' Ron Weasley...I just want to..." He stopped there, pulling back the anger that wanted to break free. He drew in a breath before continuing. "I just consider you...mine."

"Draco, I _am_ yours. You don't have anything to worry about. I don't want anyone else. Krum, well he liked me far more than I liked him. I was flattered at his attention. Ron, he wasn't ever anything more than a friend. Felix was a means to an end. I was just trying to get your attention. And Sasha, well he was _Tracey's_ lover. You are the only lover that I have ever had, and the only one that I will ever want," she said earnestly. She looked down at the bed, her fingers idly picking at the fibers in the comforter.

Draco smiled when he realized what she was telling him. "Shit, baby. If I'd known that you were a virgin, I would have, I dunno..been more gentle. Took more time with you."

Taryn blushed hotly. "No, it was perfect. I wouldn't change anything."

He leaned forward, tipping her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I'm glad," he said quietly, pressing a kiss against her lips. Maybe it was caveman, but as soon as she had revealed her former virgin state to him, all of his anger and jealousy drained away. He felt unworthy of her. She didn't know how precious she was.

"You know what has to happen next, right?" he asked, still starring into her eyes.

Taryn's brow crinkled in question. "What?"

"I'm going to buy you a diamond."

Taryn's mouth dropped open in shock.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

Draco watched Taryn's mouth open and close with a smirk. She began to cough, and he reached over to the bedside table to hand her the glass of ice water that was sitting there. He was helpful like that.

Taryn guzzled the water greedily as she tried to piece together her thoughts.

"A diamond?" She asked hoarsely. "As in a diamond ring?"

"That's what one generally gives one's fiance," Draco drawled.

Taryn's eyes went huge. "Draco we are too young to get married."

Draco snorted. "My parents got married right out of Hogwarts. So do many other couples."

"We haven't even graduated," Taryn said quickly, latching on to the statement that he had provided.

"That doesn't matter. We don't have to be married right away, but we do have to be engaged," he said.

"Why? Why do we have to be engaged?" She asked bluntly.

" You don't want to marry me? You trying to hurt my feelings baby?" Draco asked lowly, his tone almost caressing her skin.

"Don't even try it. That sexy tone isn't going to get you very far. We are still getting to know each other! We could be dead tomorrow for Merlin's sake!"

"Precisely, which is why we need to get married. We've decided that we are going to be together no matter what right?"

"Well, yes," Taryn allowed.

"Then what's the problem? You said you loved me. Generally, when you risk life and limb, not to mention proclaiming love, marriage doesn't seem like such a far off conclusion."

"Yeah, but that isn't your only reason. Stop stalling and tell me why," Taryn said grumpily.

"Okay. If we are going to be together, and I mean for real this time, not some undercover shit, then we are going to have to make it known. Hogwarts isn't enough. If we are going to do this then I have to make sure that you are as safe as possible. If I make us public then Voldemort will think twice about coming after you. If you are important, and baby you so are, then you can't just be my lover. A lover isn't protected. A fiance or a wife has more of a claim to safety. I'll only have to worry about Voldemort instead of half of the other fuckin' Deatheaters."

"So you don't really want to marry me?" Taryn asked quietly. She couldn't believe herself. On one hand, marrying Draco seemed pretty outlandish, but in her innermost depths, she wanted it. "You just want to marry this body." She looked away from him, in sudden shyness. She didn't want to see the truth in his eyes.

At his soft curse she looked back into his face, startled at the intensity she found burning in his eyes, before her eyes dropped once more.

"Taryn...Hermione...look at me baby," his hand reached out to take her own.

She looked back into his eyes, and his smiled softly when her blue eyes connected with his.

"I've been with a lot of girls, I can't lie about it. You know it and I know it, but I want you to know one thing. I might be putting a ring on your finger because of extenuating circumstances, but that is _not_ the only reason. I trust you. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone else. I tell you more than I tell my brother, and I know that you can deal with it. That body that you have, while nice, isn't what makes me want to be with you. I didn't really know Tracey, but I'd have never let her in like I've let you in. I wouldn't have wanted her like I want you. I've never wanted another girl like I want you. I cherish what makes you you. Fuck, baby, I want to go to sleep every night with you in my arms, and wake up with you every morning. I want to cook you meals and watch you dance. I want you in the crowds when I fight when the energy is high, and sitting next to me while it ebbs away. And if we are standing in rubble and the end of all this, if we die, I want to go with my hand in yours."

Taryn hadn't realized that she was crying until a hot tear fell against their joined hands. He really did love her. He'd said everything but the words. The best part was that he loved her for her, not for_ this_ body. She hadn't realized just how much it bothered her that she'd thought that he wouldn't love her for herself, and here he was telling her that he loved the her inside, not the Tracey outer shell.

'Now, I realize that it wasn't the most romantic of proposals, and its earlier than I thought I'd ever do it, but its still real. So, will you marry me?" He asked seriously.

She brought his hand to her mouth, kissing it gently, before she nodded. For better or for worse, she was tied to this man and it was more than a ring and more than ink on parchment. It _was _real, and it was forever.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Taryn knew that Nigel and Jillian were going to hit the roof when they found out that she was engaged.

When she asked Draco how he thought his mother was going to react he had smirked and said, "Mum is going to want to plan our entire wedding."

Taryn had gawked at him a moment before asking, "She won't care that you are going to marry a half-blood? What if we tell her that I'm not even really a half-blood? That I'm muggle born?"

"She wont care. She isn't like my father about those things," Draco said seriously, "Its going to take a lot for her to wait until after the war to even begin planning the wedding, but she'll have to restrain herself."

"And your father?" Taryn asked.

"I don't give a fuck what he thinks or says," Draco said.

"What if he disinherits you?"

"He won't. We put up with each other. I deal with him for my mother's sake. He tolerates me because I'm his only heir. I don't need him financially. I've made plenty money fighting, and I've invested wisely. We could easily live off just the interest of my investments. It wouldn't be like at Malfoy Manor, or even Davis status, but we would be comfortable," he said.

"Money isn't a big deal," Taryn said. "I wasn't poor coming up, but my parents were far from rich, so it really isn't an issue."

"It's just important to me that you know that I can take care of you," Draco said firmly. "After school I'd always planned to move in with my brother, but we can get our own place. I mean, if you want."

"We can do that," Taryn said softly. "Is fighting what you want to do with your life?" she asked curiously.

"For a while, yes. I'm still pretty young, but someday I might want to go pro. Eventually though, I want to help train other fighters. You remember Willy and Steph?"

Taryn nodded.

"Well," Draco continued, "They want to eventually open their own legally licensed gym and they've just as much said that Rico and I can come work for them someday. That's something that I plan to look into," he said looking at her, wanting to see her reaction to the news that he fully intended to make his life in the fighting world.

Taryn smiled. "If that's what you want to do, I'm all for it. It must be nice knowing exactly what you want to do."

"You don't?" Draco asked. She had always seemed like the type of girl that would know exactly what she wanted to do.

"Well, before I...died," Taryn said quietly, "I had planned to work for the ministry, or teach maybe. Now, well I'm not so sure."

"What about dancing? You seem pretty serious about it," Draco said.

"I like dancing, really I guess I love it, but I'm not going to make it my career. Does it bother you that I'm so undecided?"

"No. What you went through, baby, I'm sure its changed your perspective on life. Shit, I know it has, otherwise you wouldn't be with me," he laughed. "As long as you're happy then I'm behind you one hundred."

"What do you think about children?" Taryn asked.

Draco's eyes widened in horror, before looking pointedly down at her abdomen.

Taryn burst out laughing. "Don't get scared. I'm not pregnant. I just want to know what you think about them in general."

Draco sighed in relief before his thoughts turned to her question. He'd always considered kids in the abstract, something other people had, but not something for him. He liked them, but he'd never been sure about whether or not he wanted them for himself. Now that Taryn had brought them up, well he had to consider the possibility.

He couldn't stop the question from leaving his mouth. "Do you want them?"

Taryn fidgeted on the bed next to him. "Someday, I would like to have at least one."

"At_ least_ one?"

"Okay, I definitely want to have at least one, but no more than three."

The visions in Draco's mind of he and Taryn visiting exotic places now had more members. He imagined a small boy with his grey eyes and her cinnamon hair. Or a little fair haired girl with her vivid blue eyes. It surprised him that he didn't immediately balk at the idea. In fact, he rather liked the thought of her belly softly swelling with his child.

When Taryn nudged him, he realized that he had been silent for far too long. "We can have kids someday, baby," he said. "But not for awhile," he added quickly.

Taryn grinned. "Well I wasn't suggesting tomorrow, " she laughed. She remembered his reaction the first time they had made love, and she hadn't been sure about his stance on children. She was glad that he wasn't adverse to the idea.

"We'd better get up and get going if we are going to get this engagement underway," she said.

"We're already engaged. We just need the ring, but you're right. We have to get some food too, cuz I'm starving. First we get you some new clothes, then food, then the ring. After that we have to go talk to our parents," Draco said.

"We should probably hit my parents first," Taryn said grimacing.

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Don't they only let you browse in here at certain times?" Taryn asked hesitantly, as they stepped out of the taxi. She looked at the slightly intimidating facade of Harvey Nichols. It was slightly after noon and Taryn was sure that browsing hours were over.

"My family has a standing appointment," Draco said laughing.

Sure enough as soon as they entered the store an employee intercepted them swiftly.

Taryn soon found herself clothed in slim fitting designer jeans, and yellow cashmere sweater with a maroon leather jacket topping it, and cute leather and suede matching boots.

"Next the ring," Draco whispered in her ear. He knew these employees and that if they had a juicy secret they wouldn't hesitate to spill it to each other. It would be only a matter of time before it got back to his mother, and he didn't want them spilling the beans before he even _bought _the ring.

Taryn sighed. They would have to go to Diagon Alley to purchase the ring, and though she knew that that was the easiest way for news to travel, she was still leery.

* * *

0o0

* * *

She pushed down her nervousness with effort as they watched the familiar brick wall fold back upon itself.

They headed directly for Payne & Co.

Payne & Co. was Diagon Alley's, and therefore London's wizarding society's premier jeweler. The shop was said to have designed the crown of King Arthur himself, and was the place to that anyone who was anyone patronized.

The shop itself was beautiful, with highly polished wooden floors, and spotless crystal display cased that housed their insanely priced wares.

As soon as they entered the shop a young, impeccably dressed witch approached them. She was wearing a smart set of cherry red robes which matched the shade slicked upon her lips. Her shiny brown hair was pinned atop her head in artful curls and she smiled at them in welcome.

"Welcome to Payne & Company. My name is Helene. Is there anything that I can assist you with?" she smiled, batting her eyes at Draco.

Taryn wanted to cheer inside when he merely gave the woman a glance before stating, "Yes, my name is Draco Malfoy. Is Mr. Payne in by any chance?"

Helene went business-like at once. "Of course sir. One moment please."

The girl hurried toward a doorway off to the left, coming back with a short, portly man with smiling brown eyes.

"If it isn't young Mr. Malfoy! Are you here to find something special for that delightful mother of yours?" Mr. Payne asked.

"Not today," Draco said, grasping Taryn's hand in his. "I've come, well my fiance and I, have come to find an engagement ring. May I introduce you to Tracey Taryn Davis."

"Davis?" Payne tapped a finger against his mouth as he pretended to try and recall where he had heard the name. "Are you, perhaps, the daughter of Nigel Davis?"

"I am," Taryn said.

Taryn watched the man goggle for a moment before puffing up with pride. "Ah, and you both have chosen my little shop," he asked in false modesty.

Taryn pushed back a giggle. She could practically see the man's mental tally marks as he calculated what Draco would have to spend even the most simple of engagement rings within the store.

"Of course," Draco flattered the man, "There isn't anywhere else we would consider." Draco also knew that since he hadn't mentioned privacy that Mr. Payne would let all and sundry know just who had purchased items in his shop and exactly the sort of items bought.

"Do you have a price range?" Payne asked politely.

"Money isn't an object. Whatever my Taryn wants," Draco said, laying on the flowering phrases.

Payne couldn't help clapping his hands in absolute glee. "Then please follow me," he said leading them down a side hall to a more private viewing room.

Draco knew that this was where the most high end of jewels were kept, and only certain names bought entry into this wing of the shop.

"Do you have a favorite color?" Payne asked.

Taryn opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by Draco. She was the tiniest bit irritated until he answered, "She likes yellow."

She glanced at him, with a smile.

"Well, you do," he said quietly. "What? You didn't think that I noticed? You gravitate to the color."

Payne watched the byplay between the young couple. They did look very much in love. He had been in this business since birth, taking over for his father before him, and he thought that he had a sharp eye toward the engagements, and the marriages that would last. He would wager that this relationship would stand the test of time.

"Well," Payne said quietly, "If money is indeed no object..." he walked behind a nearby curtain, coming back with a small blue velvet box.

He cracked the box open, revealing a beautiful yellow diamond ring. "This diamond is the last stone in existence that was once a part of the necklace that Queen Guinevere wore during her coronation. It is a five carat, radiant cut stone, set in the purest of platinum."

"How much is it?" Taryn asked curiously. She _wanted _that ring. She'd have never thought that she was the type of girl to go mental over a flashy stone, but it was something about this ring that was alluring, compelling, and she wanted it for her own.

When the man stated the price she wanted to tell him to close the box immediately. Over forty thousand Galleons! That was more than two hundred thousand pounds! It was with sheer strength of will that she was able to tamp down her inner panic.

She looked over at Draco with wide eyes to find that he was watching her with amusement.

"We'll take it," Draco said, directing his comment to Payne.

"Splendid! You will also want to add the matching wedding ring and groom's band as well, I should think," Payne said happily.

"Yes of course. The engagement ring Taryn will wear out, but we would like the other rings delivered to my vault at Gringotts for safekeeping."

"Of course, sir!" Payne said, before turning his attention to Taryn. "Please hold out your left hand, m'dear."

Taryn did so, proud of the fact that she didn't allow her hand to tremble.

Payne placed the ring on her finger, and aiming his wand at her hand, sized to fit her ring finger perfectly with a murmured spell.

"Now, if you will wait here, I will return with the bill of sale, and the statement from Gringotts," Payne said, leaving the room.

Taryn immediately turned her attention to Draco. "Are you sure about this? This ring," she said holding up her hand, "is...well the price is insane. It's too bloody expensive," she whispered quietly.

"It has to be outrageous to warrant more interest, and I can afford it. I know you like it. Be honest. You all but came in your knickers when you saw it, and frankly I'm a bit jealous. I thought you only had that reaction to me," Draco said in amusement.

Taryn rolled her eyes. "I do like it," she admitted, "but it _is_ crazy expensive."

"Don't worry about it," Draco said lazily, leaning back into the comfortable couch were they sat.

He began tapping his foot. "Shit, I hope he hurries up. I'm starving!"

"Are you going to wear your wedding ring after we're married?" Taryn asked. She genuinely wanted to know. Not all men wanted to wear their wedding rings, and she hoped that he was the type that would. Draco wasn't the only one that could get jealous.

"Of course," he said, looking at her. "I wouldn't be buying it if I didn't intend to wear it," he said simply.

Taryn smiled at his perfect answer. It was so Draco. Blunt and to the point.

Payne soon came back to with their documents, and Taryn left the shop with one hand in Draco's and the other sporting the beautiful yellow diamond.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

* * *

The warmth and the delicious smells emanating from the kitchens inside Siddhartha was a welcome respite from the frosty winds that whipped through Diagon Alley.

Siddhartha was a mixture of ancient Mughal architecture blended seamlessly with sleek modernism. The entryway was inviting, tiled in a decorative pattern of golden marble and genuine turquoise squares that complemented the muraled walls perfectly. Delicate white carved benches sat next to walls that were painted with beautifully rendered flowers and peacocks so vibrant that they looked as if they could step out of their painted positions.

A large, shallow fountain was the main centerpiece of the room, and the sound of the splashing water and the soft music piped into the room aided in instilling a feeling of ease as one waited to be seated at a table.

All of that was well and good, but despite its renowned cuisine, that was not what made the restaurant so popular. What drew the crowds, in spite of the outrageous food prices, was that it was a Ministry approved safe place to dine. Every few hours, and especially during operating hours, a group of Aurors thoroughly inspected the building from top to bottom, stamping a seal on the board by the door, which was placed in a prime position that could be easily seen by diners.

Taryn was sure that the owners were paying an arm and a leg for the privilege. While it was nice that she and Draco would be able to relax in relative safety, that wasn't what had prompted her decision to dine there.

No, the main draw was that Siddhartha was owned by Lakshimi Patil, the mother of two of Hogwarts worst gossips Padma and Parvati Patil.

Due to the popularity of the eatery, she hadn't been sure that they would be able to get a table without a reservation, but once again Draco's name and money had them briskly led to a table.

The seating was nice and consisted of a polished table, with a crystal bowl and floating candles as the centerpiece. Lush greenery and fragrant flowers dotted throughout the room provided semi-privacy between the tables, and lent the room an almost tropical feel.

"I'm going to the loo. Can you tell the waiter that I want iced tea?" Taryn asked Draco.

Nodding in the affirmative, he waited until she was out of sight to motion toward a waiter. "I need two iced teas, and would you please bring me your adspectus mirror?"

"Right away sir," the young waiter said.

Soon he was back with the frosty glasses of tea, and the polished flat of obsidian.

Draco nodded his thanks before concentrating on his mother and tapping his wand against the glass.

The glass wavered for a moment before Narcissa's face appeared. "Draco? I've been so worried. Why did you leave the charity ball so abruptly? I've heard such rumors..."

"I can explain all of that, mum. Are you busy right now?" Draco interrupted.

"Well, no. I know that you usually leave on New Year's Eve to spend time with your friends, but the way that you left had me so worried that I haven't been able to concentrate on anything else."

Draco felt a bite of guilt. "I apologize for that. If you can make your way over to Siddhartha I can explain exactly why I needed to leave. In fact it would be perfect if you could come. There is a lot that we need to talk about."

Narcissa frowned. "Are you sure that you want to talk in public?"

"Its actually essential that we do so. Now, if you have the time, I'd like you to come please."

"Of course, dear," Narcissa said, "Just let me get my wrap and I'll be over shortly."

Draco tapped his wand against the glass again, severing the connection, before handing the glass back to the man and telling him that they would be waiting for one more person before they would be ready to order their food.

He looked up to see Taryn making her way back to the table, and stood to pull her chair out, seating her before returning to his own seat.

"This place is just...over the top," Taryn said with a grin. "The loo actually has an attendant, and not the usual sort. The place is almost like a spa. I saw a woman in there getting a massage! Though I have to admit that the bowls of polished stones they've charmed to control the temperature is fascinating. Its a tricky little bit of weather spellwork," she said tapping her index finger against her mouth as her brow crinkled in thought. "I wonder who invented it? I'll have to look that up later because..." She trailed off, blushing hotly, when she noticed Draco looking at her in amusement.

"What?" she asked, looking at him in question.

"Nothing, I just think its dead sexy when you get all nerdy," he said giving her a smoldering once over.

A delicious shiver ran down her spine, before she grabbed her napkin, snapping it out and laying it across her lap. "You didn't use to think so," she said primly.

"That's what you thought," Draco drawled. "In any case," he continued, "You weren't mine then, but now you most definitely are."

Taryn opened her mouth to reply when a flash of pink caught her eye. Turning to get a better look, she saw Narcissa Malfoy making her way to their table!

The woman looked chic, her deep rose robes tailored to perfection, her blonde hair twisted into a flawless low chignon.

Taryn saw surprise flicker on the woman's face, before a smile graced her formerly austere features.

"Draco," she squeaked, "You mum is here!"

"I know," he said casually. "Don't be mad. I know that you said you wanted to talk to your parents first but I think you should meet my mother before we do that. I talked with her while you were in the loo. I'd like to take you to see it someday when this is all over, but right now Malfoy Manor isn't safe. I can't get my mother away yet, and I'm not putting you in harms way by taking you there."

"But...What about what I'm wearing," she moaned. "I didn't want to meet your mother for the first time wearing jeans."

"Technically you have already met her," Draco said dryly.

"You know what I mean! I haven't even met her as your girlfriend, let alone fiance! And, she doesn't know that we've met before. To her I'm probably just some girl that you are shacking up with on occasion."

Draco reached across the table, drawing her hand into his. "She won't care what you're wearing, and you're not just some girl that I'm shacking up with."

"I know that, but..." she began.

"But nothing. Don't do that. I don't like when you talk about yourself like that. You're the only girl that I would introduce to my mother. And before you say it, Pansy doesn't count. She knew mum already, and even if she hadn't I wouldn't have introduced her."

Taryn looked slightly mollified at this, but her face was still red with embarrassment when Narcissa finally made it to their table.

Draco, stood and helped his mother get seated before sitting back down himself. "I hope you haven't eaten yet mum, because we waited for you to arrive to order."

"Excellent," Narcissa said.

The waiter, obviously trained on timing, arrived at just the moment they wanted to order. They made it simple for the man by all ordering the chicken tikka masala with a side of naan and jeera rice.

Narcissa's brow rose in question when Draco also ordered a bottle of champagne. "Délicieux Rose seems a bit...fancy for lunch dear," she said.

"Well, I'm in a celebratory mood, but where are my manners? Mum, this is Taryn Davis. Taryn, this is my mum, Narcissa."

"Actually, I think that we have met before in passing once. I think at a garden party a few years ago at Judith Parkinson's home," Narcissa said.

Taryn was immediately taken by surprise. She had been expecting...well...the Narcissa that Hermione had met in the past. That woman had been cold and superior, and while this one wasn't extremely approachable, there was a certain _warmness_ there.

Judith Parkinson? Ah, Taryn thought, Pansy's mother. Tracey's mind provided the memory and she was able to nod in recognition. "I think I remember. She had those terrible crab puffs right?"

Narcissa nodded. "Yes. Judith always has her elves make the awful things, and everyone is too polite to tell her just how unappetizing they actually are."

Narcissa sobered just a bit when she realized that she had allowed herself to be distracted. "Draco, why are we celebrating?" She turned to Taryn, her eyes widening. "Oh, Merlin. You're pregnant aren't you? I'm going to be a grandmother? I admit, its a little earlier than I thought, but at least I'll be the youngest grandmother wherever you take the child. Maybe I won't be grandmother. Granny? No, no that brings to mind an old biddy. Perhaps Mimzy? That bears some consideration..."

"Mum, Taryn's not pregnant!" He interrupted quickly before his mother went off on a different tangent. The interruption, however, was a little louder than he had intended. People from the other tables began to look over in interest and muted whispers began to circulate the room.

Taryn took a much needed gulp of her tea, allowing the cool liquid to soothe her suddenly parched throat. No one noticed to two deeply interested sisters peeping around from the kitchens, almost giddy with their new tidbit of gossip.

"Draco, you have never wanted me to have lunch with you and a _female_ friend. I thought that you were going to take this relationship slow, but with your memorable exit at the charity ball, and this meet and greet lunch, well I know that something is going on. Now spill," Narcissa said firmly.

I can see where Draco inherited his blunt way of speaking, Taryn thought as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She didn't realize that the motion had drawn attention to the large, five carat diamond that graced her left hand.

Narcissa gasped. "You're engaged!"

"Yes, we are," Draco said, as he calmly began to pour them each a glass of champagne. He took a sip – it was nice, if a little sweet for his taste, with floral notes that segued into a deep black cherry flavor with hints of citrus and chocolate – before sitting the glass back down on the polished wooden table.

"Does she know about..." Narcissa began to ask.

"I do," Taryn said, piping in finally.

"And, it doesn't bother you?" Narcissa asked.

"It does bother me, but it won't stop me from marrying Draco," Taryn stated.

"Why? I know its not money, the Davis family has more gold than Midas, but I need to know your reasons. I love my son very much, and I won't have you taking advantage of him. Draco projects a very hard outer shell, but my child has a soft heart and I will not see you break it," Narcissa said in a fierce, level tone.

Narcissa knew that Draco loved the girl, he wouldn't have asked her to marry him otherwise, but she had to be sure that her son's feelings were returned. She'd throw the girl at Voldemort before she allowed her to hurt Draco.

Draco groaned, running furrows into his pale hair with his fingers. "Mum, I'm not a child. I can make decisions for myself."

"You will always be _my_ child," Narcissa said to Draco, before turning her attention back to Taryn. She waited pointedly for an answer.

"I love Draco," Taryn began softly. "I don't care about what he has had to do in the past, I care about the man he is right now. You don't have to worry about my feelings toward your son. The feelings that I have for him are strong, and they are very real."

Narcissa looked at her for a long moment before nodding in satisfaction. She could tell that the girl was sincere and now she could lay her feelings on that front to rest. She looked around the room. "Now, where is that waiter? I'm practically famished!" She leaned forward to pat Taryn's hand. "Now, about those wedding plans...

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Your mum is pretty intense," Taryn said as they walked from the restaurant. They were taking the time to let their food settle a bit before they tackled her parents.

"When its about me, yeah, she can be. Don't worry though, I can tell that she likes you," he said.

"Really?" Taryn asked in amazement.

"Yes. She wouldn't have spend as much time grilling you if she didn't think it was worth the effort. And, I know that you noticed her segue into wedding plans," Draco said.

"Ugh," Taryn groaned. "I know. I thought she was going to faint when we told her that we probably won't marry until after graduation."

Draco laughed. "It was like telling mum that we had Diagon Alley shut down for just her shopping pleasure, but that she had to wait a year for them to do so."

Taryn laughed a bit at this. "Well, at least it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

"I told you that you would have nothing to worry about. Really, though, how do you think your parents are going to take this?"

"Not well at all. You saw how Nigel reacted when I stayed away for the night. He isn't going to be happy that I've affianced myself to a rumored Deatheater."

She stopped walking when she noticed Draco's uncomfortable look. Pulling him closer, she smoothed the furrow on his brow, and kissed him on his wind chilled cheek. "I didn't mean it like that. You don't have to worry. I care about what Nigel and Jillian think, they don't know that I'm not Tracey, but I won't let them separate us. You are so very important to me, and if they want to remain in my life then they will have to accept you."

"I don't want you to break away from your family for me. You've already lost a family once. I don't want to ruin the new one that you've made for yourself. You're already giving up so much just to be with me," Draco said quietly.

"If they love me then they'll understand. I don't expect a miracle. It might take them a while to accept us, but once they know you like I do, then they'll love you too. And if they don't, well then they aren't who I thought they were and I'm better off without them."

Draco held her tighter, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers, as the frigid wind swirled around them.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Taryn didn't feel right about apparating into the house without warning, even though it was her home.

"Maybe we should have called first," she hedged, as they stood at the bottom of the stone steps.

"Its too late for that now," Draco said. "We just have to go in and do it. We can just tell them fast. You know, like ripping off a bandaid."

Taryn looked at him, her lips quirking despite her unease. "Its still crazy to hear you spout muggle colloquialisms."

"Well, get used to them baby, because now that I don't have to hide them from you you'll be hearing them a lot more," Draco said with a cocky smirk.

They both jumped slightly when the front door swung open.

Nigel was standing in the doorway, anger clearly defining his face. "Are you two going to stand out in the cold all day, or are you going to come in and explain yourselves?"

Taryn swallowed nervously, grabbing Draco's hand – a motion not unnoticed by Nigel – before mounting the steps and following Nigel into the living room.

"Sit down," Nigel ordered.

They looked at each other quickly, before sinking down into the cushy couch.

Nigel turned away for a moment, yelling into the hallway, "Jillian! They're here!"

Moments later, Jillian entered the room. In her hands she held a new, crisp copy of Witch Weekly.

"Can you explain this?" Jillian said, slapping the magazine on the coffee table in front of them.

Taryn's mouth dropped open when she saw the picture on the front.

It was a photo of Draco and her holding hands as they walked through Diagon Alley. A smaller round photo focused on the large engagement ring on her finger. The title said, in large yellow letters: "Is Draco Malfoy Engaged? Exclusive interviews and details inside."

Taryn turned to look at Draco, who merely shrugged. "That was bloody fast," was all he said.

"Well, is it true?" Jillian asked hesitantly.

Taryn opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Nigel's angry voice. "I don't care if it is! Tracey Taryn Davis, you will give this boy his ring back and go upstairs to your room. Mr. Malfoy, you will leave this house, and not attempt to contact my daughter again."

"With all due respect sir, I believe that it is Taryn's decision," Draco said.

"Taryn is underage! She is sixteen years old and won't reach majority until July. Until then I make her decisions for her. Now," he said turning his attention back to his daughter, "do as I told you. Give him the ring and go upstairs."

Taryn's amazement had boiled over into anger. "No! I won't," she said, standing. Draco stood with her, drawing her hand back into his.

"You _won't_? You will do as I tell you, or I will send you to the states to stay with Desmond. I will not have my daughter flitting around London with a Deatheater!" Nigel practically screamed.

Jillian moved closer to her husband, rubbing his back to try and calm the man down. "Taryn," Jillian began calmly, "You are far too young to get married, and though I'm sure that you think that you love Mr. Malfoy a great deal..."

"I don't _think_ that I love him," Taryn interrupted, "I know that I do. You can threaten to send me wherever you want, but I promise that if you do so, I will run away and I won't let you know where I am. You have two choices: You can accept that I'm going to be with Draco, or you can force me to distance myself from you. I don't want to do that, but I will if you leave me no choice."

She watched as Nigel practically deflated. He realized the truth in her statement. They couldn't force her to do anything, unless they used the Imperius.

Nigel closed his eyes for a moment. It took every shred of his willpower to speak calmly. "I don't want this life for you, my daughter. Claudia wouldn't have wanted this for you. Please, just listen to reason. You don't know what you are getting yourself into. You have been pampered your entire life. Taryn, you are ill equipped for his lifestyle," he said nodding toward Draco sharply.

Draco had to interrupt at this. "I will do anything in my power to keep her safe. I care very deeply about your daughter."

"You are a child! You can't even take care of yourself, let alone anyone else! You two haven't considered the far reaching results of the decision you have foolishly made."

Taryn smiled sadly. They really didn't know her at all. "I think that I've made my position pretty clear, and that you have done the same. Draco and I are going to leave, but I promise that we will keep in touch. We will be going back to school tomorrow and you can of course reach me there."

She nodded toward Draco, and without another spoken word, he pulled her into a sidelong apparition, leaving Tracey's parents holding each other silently.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

* * *

She had been unsure about what exactly to wear. It wasn't a formal presentation, the Dark Lord was expecting her, but still she wanted to look nice. She finally settled on Slytherin green robes paired with dainty matching slippers. Her hair was freshly cut into a chic bob, the black locks curling gently, just past her chin. She wanted to look feminine, yet not enticing. Somewhat delicate, but still capable.

The hallway was familiar, with its dark carved wood and numerous doors. At the end of the hallway was a small window, with an equally small table set before it. She could see the glint of the sun hitting the small glass vase that held dying flowers from the corner of her eye when it was not firmly trained on the tips of her shoes.

This was only her second visit to the house, and though her name protected her somewhat, it still wasn't smart to connect eyes with the rare individual allowed to walk down this particular corridor.

She had been sitting for at least an hour, when she almost jumped out of her skin as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

Her eyes followed the heavy limb until they connected with Wormtail's less than pleasant visage. She had to push back the disgust that wanted to grace her face, instead painting it with polite smile. She had disliked the man when her eyes first laid on him, with his fat slovenly appearance and beady eyes. What made him important enough to warrant his position? Unwavering idiocy most likely, she thought.

"He is ready to see you," he said, in his grating, reedy voice.

She silently followed him down the long corridor, the clicking of her heels muffled by the expensive Persian floor runner. Soon they stood before a pair of dark, polished double doors.

He knocked once, and she had to tamp down the urge to shift her feet as they waited for an answer.

"Enter."

Wormtail opened the door, pausing for a moment to assess the room, before quickly ushering her inside.

Rich, brown velvet curtains blocked out the midday sun and dimmed the room considerably. A few tapestries lined the walls and broke the monotony of the dark plum wallpaper, but only the fireplace brought warmth to the room.

The Dark Lord was seated in a heavy, leather armchair, placed just out of the reach of the light from the fireplace. His features were shadowed, and for this she was glad. She remembered her first glance at his inhuman features and disturbing red eyes. She tried to blank her thoughts, but she hadn't been trained in Occlumcy, so she knew that it was most likely in vain. She just hoped that he wouldn't take offense, or at least deemed her fleeting thoughts to trivial to bother searching.

She took a small step forward before lowering herself into a deep curtsy, that she knew made her robes billow in a most becoming fashion.

She remained in position, her face lowered as Wormtail spoke. "Will you be needing anything else, M'lord?"

"No. You may leave ussss," Voldemort said quietly.

Wormtail left the room, the door shutting with a quiet click behind him.

"Rissse, and look at me. I wish to sssee your face."

She gracefully rose to her feet, turning her face toward his shadowed features. She swallowed hard, as he leaned forward and the firelight revealed his reptilian face.

A cold shiver ran down her spine when a smile graced his thin lips. "Have you completed the tasssk I asssked of you?"

"I have, M'lord."

"Come, let me sssee."

She walked forward, before sinking once more to kneel at his feet. His hand rose to cup the back of her head.

It was her only warning before his mind sank into hers with the force of a blade slicing through skin. She was unable to prevent the small hiss of pain that escaped her lips, and she trembled when he made a sound of pleasure at the noise.

She remained still as he rifled through her memories. She had done exactly as he had instructed, and found the perfect candidate for his particular request. He watched as she approached the yellow eyed witch with a falsely tearful expression.

"Ssshe is a lover of women, yesss?"

"She is," she said quietly, "There have always been rumors about her orientation. It wasn't too difficult to convince her to meet with me privately."

"Would you have gone as far asss to ssseduce her?"

"If need be, yes, but there wasn't a need for such repugnant activities. I merely told her that I had similar feelings and needed someone to talk with about them. She was hesitant, but I emphasized that I didn't have an adult figure that I was comfortable speaking with, and that my parents wouldn't be receptive," she said quietly.

Voldemort chuckled, titillated at her deviousness. "Ah, I sssee."

He watched as the girl followed the woman to her office. The older witch offered her tea, a concerned, yet friendly look on her face, that quickly turned into horror and then blankness as the Imperius hit her squarely between the eyes.

"You made sssure to cover your tracksss? Ssshe will be ready when needed?"

"Yes, M'lord," she said quietly. "I have instructed her to act normally until the proper moment. When the time comes she wont hesitate to do as ordered, before coming to me afterward. She has a window of an hour to get to me to be Obliviated, or the Imperius will cause her to take her own life. Either way she won't be able to tell tales."

Voldemort's hand slid from her hair as he settled back into his chair. "I don't often give sssecond chancesss, and I sssense that the mark was not what you were after when you offered your ssservice to me, but I find that I like your calculating nature and ssso I will grant it if you have changed your mind."

"No, M'lord," she said, before she thought better of it. "I mean," she added quickly, stumbling a bit on her words,"It isn't that I wouldn't be honored to receive the mark should you decide to give it, it's just..."

"Jussst sssay what you want. I don't have time for blathering," Voldemort said cuttingly.

Pansy's eyes rose to meet his. "I want Draco."

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Ugh, I just realized that I didn't take the time to get clothes while we were at my house. Thank Merlin that I left a lot of them at school," Taryn groaned once they had gotten back to Draco's apartment.

"Don't worry about that. We can just shrink some of my robes to fit you for tomorrow, and transfigure something for you to wear underneath," Draco said, before asking quietly, "Are you okay? Y'know, about what just happened with your parents?"

"I'm not happy with their reaction, but I can't say that I'm surprised. I figured that they were going to freak out, so I was somewhat prepared for it. This is going to sound really bad, and I don't want you to think that I don't care about them. I do care, but they aren't really my parents. I don't have that same depth of emotion that I'd have if they were my own parents," she said, as she toed off her boots, wriggling her feet in the plush rug by his bed.

"That's actually understandable. I mean, you haven't known them long enough to forge deep bonds or anything."

Taryn quirked her mouth at him. "People could say the same thing about us."

He pulled her to him, his arms going around her waist from behind. He laid a warm kiss against her neck. "They'd be wrong. We both know that we always felt something for each other, granted, it was a healthy amount of dislike before it became this," he said, lips still grazing her skin.

"That's true," Taryn allowed, before she groaned. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. Besides Chase, we don't really have any true friends." She turned in his arms, leaning back to look into his face. "After we talk with Dumbledore, I really want to tell him about myself."

"Just Chase? What about Potter and Weasley?"

Taryn sighed. "I can't just jump back into my previous life. As much as I want to tell Harry and Ron, I'm not sure if it will be fair to them. Really, think about it. It has to come from you and I doubt Harry will believe anything that you have to say right now. He suspects you far too much."

Draco thought about her statement. He stilled as he realized the depth of trust that she had placed in him. She really couldn't tell anyone who she was, and unless he decided to tell others her secret would remain just that. "You're right. Potter would probably want to cast an Unforgivable at me if I even attempted to speak your name. That you're my fiance only makes the truth less believable." He sighed, "Well, at least I won't have to warn off Serrano, though I'd probably have to knock you before he'd stop trying to get at you," Draco growled.

"I hope he got the message when I abandoned him at the Christmas party. He was way too grabby. I was close to hexing him just so he'd keep his hands to himself," Taryn grimaced.

"Fuck, don't tell me that. You don't know how close I got to kicking his ass. I didn't like the way he looked at you. In fact, I hate how any guy looks at you. Hopefully, my ring on your finger will make some them back off, because I really don't need to get expelled for putting blokes in the infirmary."

"You talk like every guy in school is trying to get in my knickers," Taryn said, rolling her eyes. "Its pretty much the exact opposite," she turned in his arms, tilting back her head to look into his eyes. "You're the one that all the girls want. I swear, I think that more girls are after you than Harry."

"That's because I'm hotter than Potter," Draco said, laughing a bit at his unintentional rhyme.

"No arguments here," Taryn said, tiptoeing to rub her lips across his.

* * *

0o0

* * *

"I can't believe that you're engaged," Rico said, furiously hitting the button on his controller. "Shit," he said, tossing the controller on the couch next to him when he lost yet again. "How do you keep winning? Have you played this already?" he asked suspiciously.

Draco laughed. "Playstations don't exactly work at Hogwarts."

"Oh yeah," Rico said, before his voice lowered to a serious tone. "But really, are you sure about the whole engagement thing?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said quietly.

Rico nodded after a moment. "You must be. That's a freaking huge rock on her finger, and you even let her take your credit card to go shopping. That is love, bro."

Draco stretched, before leaning back into the soft cushions. "Well, Bianchi's is out for awhile. I'm already going to have to deal with Pansy's shit when I get back to school. I'd rather not add Brandi in too," he said, speaking about their tradition to eat once more at the pizza parlor before Draco returned to school.

"Leah is set on us taking you both out to celebrate your engagement. She thinks that its ridiculously romantic. I've told her that I don't dance," Rico said with a grimace. Suddenly his features brightened. "At least I get to laugh at you. You're pretty much obligated to dance," he said with a laugh.

"How do you figure that?" Draco asked.

"You said that Taryn is a dancer. She'll probably want to dance and you'll be too jealous to let her dance on her own. Have you talked with her about that? The jealousy thing?"

"Kind of. She just brushes it off. I don't think she realizes how serious I am about it," Draco said with a frown.

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Okay, just put this piece right..." Leah said, pulling a bobby pin out of her mouth and sliding it into Taryn's hair. "You have great hair. Is this color natural?"

"Um, yeah it is," Taryn said.

She was sitting on the toilet so the shorter girl could easily reach her hair.

"Okay, you can look," the other girl said.

Taryn stood to glance in the mirror. Her hair was pulled into a half up half down style that managed to make her wavy hair look as if it would fall with the pull on one pin, yet was strangely secure. "Its not too much? I could just put my hair into a ponytail."

"No," Leah said firmly. "I caved on the color thing," she said eying Taryn's outfit, "You should do a little something different with your hair. Not that you need much color with that huge rock on your finger," the other girl joked.

Taryn turned her head, the rhinestone clip in her hair catching the light from the bulbs above the sink. "Its cute," she said finally. She smoothed down her shirt, which was a contrast the the bright outfit the Leah was wearing.

The other girl was wearing a pink metallic halter top and skintight dark wash jeans. Her dark hair was smooth, lying like dark water over her shoulders.

Taryn was wearing a deep gray top, that hung a bit off of one shoulder, and banded just above the waist band of her slim fitting black jeans. The small rhinestone charm on the thin silver belly chain she wore winked as she turned to get a full appraisal of her outfit. Her outfit was sexy, yet casual and comfortable.

"You sure that you don't want to borrow something of mine? I have this blue top that would look really good with your coloring," Leah suggested.

"No, I think that this is fine," Taryn said.

"You afraid of what Ryu is going to think if you wear it?"

Taryn paused for a moment before her mind clicked on the Ryu name. "He probably wouldn't like it if I went out in something super sexy, but he'd have to deal if that was what I wanted. I love him, but he doesn't dictate my life."

Leah smiled at that. "Well, judging by what happened at the bar any guy would be crazy to go after you while he's around."

"He doesn't have anything to worry about," Taryn said.

"Hmmm, if you say so," the other girl said.

Taryn turned to her. "What does that mean?"

"Chill," Leah said raising her hands. "I don't mean that I think that you'd cheat on him or anything, and I really don't know him very well, I just think that he seems like the jealous type. He just seems really...intense. Rico can be pretty intense in his own way, but I think that Ryu is on a totally different level."

"I can deal with him," Taryn said with a grin.

"You're going to have to," Leah said with a laugh, "Especially since you're marrying the guy. How long have you to been together?"

"Well, we've know each other since we were eleven, but we've only been together for about four months," Taryn said.

"Aw, childhood sweethearts," Leah said, looking starry eyed.

"Not exactly," Taryn laughed. "We practically hated each other for years. Its only been rather recently that it changed."

"Is Ryu as secretive as Rico?" Leah asked. "I mean, I didn't even know that Rico had a brother until a few days ago. I saw the second bedroom and I just assumed that Ryu was his roommate or something. I'm actually still a little pissed off about it."

"That's something that they share. Ryu can be closemouthed too," she said quietly.

"Has he taken you to Stygian?" Leah asked.

"No, he's told me all about it, but I haven't been there yet," Taryn answered.

"Well, if he does then Rico won't have any excuses about my going anymore."

"He hasn't taken you there yet?"

"No," the other girl said, "He doesn't want me there. He doesn't tell me a lot, but I'm not stupid. I know it must not be legit or something, otherwise he'd bring me around." She laughed. "We haven't been together much longer than you and Ryu, but there are still things that he won't talk to me about."

"Ryu will talk to me about things, but its mostly as they come up," Taryn said, trying to explain the situation without bringing Voldemort into it. She grimaced. Obviously she wasn't very good at this. Draco was coming off as a backwards "I know what's good for you, little lady" chauvinistic asshole.

"But, doesn't it bother you?" Leah asked.

"Sometimes," Taryn said honestly. "He tells me the important things, and he is a little overprotective, but he knows my limits, how far to go, and if he needs reminding I don't have a problem letting him know. Really, though, at the end of the day I know that he loves me and that that is the most important thing."

* * *

0o0

* * *

Colored lights cut through the fog that flowed throughout the dance floor. The press of bodies gave the air a warm, almost tropical feeling.

Leah and Taryn danced side by side, their boyfriends sitting at a nearby table on the edge of the dance floor.

"Let's head over to the table. I'm gonna die if I don't get something to drink," Leah called over the loud, thrumming beat of the music.

Taryn nodded, and they made their way back to the table. She reached over and grabbed the rest of Draco's drink, downing the beverage until only the ice was left.

"That was mine," he said, raising his brow.

Taryn grinned before crunching on a piece of ice. "You don't need it. You've been sitting here the whole time. You should come out and dance with me."

"Yeah, go dance with her Ryu," Rico said with a grin.

Taryn grabbed his hand. "Come on, I know you know how to dance. I bet you learned to dance the waltz before you even came to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, well this is pretty far from the waltz," Draco said motioning at the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.

"Don't worry," Taryn said with a naughty smile, "I'll be gentle with you."

Draco counted himself lucky when a slightly slower dance song came on. That is until Taryn turned, her back to his chest as she slid an arm up to curl around his neck. Her hips started to do a slow figure eight shimmy as she moved to the music.

His hands instinctively slid down to hold her hips as she moved against him. "You must not want to be here much longer," He murmured. His voice had turned into that low growl that she loved so much.

"What do you mean?" she asked in mock innocence. She turned her face to peck a kiss against his lips, before she undulated in a slow body roll against him. She could feel him coming to attention behind her, and she shivered in anticipation.

Her heels made her the perfect height for him to whisper into her ear. "You think I don't know what you're doing?"

She rocked her hips back into his, shivering as he ran his finger tips across the exposed skin of her midriff. "You deserve it for making me practically drag you on the dance floor."

He pulled her arm from his neck, kissing the sensitive skin of her wrist, before he turned her in his arms. "We're leaving," he said, kissing her quickly on the mouth. He grasped her hand, pulling her from the dance floor, and back to their table.

"Judging by that little performance on the dance floor, I'd guess that you're leaving," Rico said with a knowing grin.

"You'd be guessing correctly," Draco said.

Rico stood. "I probably wont see you before you leave for school, so take care of yourself bro," he said, giving Draco a quick hug. He turned to Taryn. "Its been nice to finally meet you Taryn."

Taryn smiled at him. "Likewise."

Leah pulled her into a hug. "Let me know if you need any help planning the wedding. We'll see you both again around Easter, yeah?"

"Probably," Taryn said. She would do her utmost effort to assure that both she and Draco would be able to see the couple again.

"Of course you will," Rico said, lightly, his serious face belittling the effort at levity. Draco told her that Rico knew about Voldemort, but not every detail.

"You and Ryu will have the apartment to yourselves. Rico and I fully intend to take advantage of the fact that my roommate is still out of town," Leah said with a wink. The bubbly girl had obviously not noticed the serious undertones of their conversation. "Try not to scare the shit out of me the next time that we see each other," she said, directing her comment to Draco.

"He wont," Taryn said. "We'll meet up for a proper lunch somewhere expensive and make him pay for it," she said grinning.

* * *

0o0

* * *

They appeared back in the apartment with a pop.

Taryn followed Draco to the bedroom, fully expecting him to toss her on the bed. She was surprised when he began stripping off his clothes, heading directly to the bathroom.

She frowned when the sound of the shower started immediately after he closed the door. Not that she was an expert on the subject, but she didn't think that this was the way seduction was supposed to go.

Draco was usually the aggressor in the bedroom, but it was about time the he gave up the reins, at least for a bit.

With that thought in mind, she stripped off her clothes and gathering courage, opened the bathroom door.

She could see his body through the semi-transparent shower curtain, and paused for a moment to admire the view.

She pulled the pins from her hair, dropping them on the vanity, before running her fingers through her hair to soothe the slightly sore spots on her scalp.

Rico had the master bedroom of the apartment, and because of this Draco's bathroom wasn't the most spacious of bathing rooms.

When Taryn pushed back the the shower curtain and stepped into the tub, she was almost plastered against his back.

He looked over his shoulder with a grin, and she watched in enthralled fascination as water ran in rivulets down the muscles of his back.

She pulled the washcloth from his hands and began to run the sudsy cloth over is skin. "This shower doesn't have anything on your shower back at school."

He turned around, his grey gaze locking on hers. "That's okay. We wont be in here very long anyway," his voice was low, laced with sensual promise. He leaned down to capture her mouth with his, gently brushing his lips against hers. The washcloth dropped to the shower floor, forgotten as her hands twined around his back, brushing the muscles there.

Her mouth opened on a soft gasp, and he deepened the kiss, his mouth hotly colliding with hers.

One of her hands moved from its place on his back, down to trace the taut muscles of his stomach, before reaching her ultimate goal.

His mouth broke from hers with a moan when she wrapped her hand around him, lightly rubbing her thumb on the underside of his cock, sliding upward the rub the tip.

She began to stroke him firmly, watching as his eyes drifted close with a groan. His hand drifted down to still hers. "If you keep doing that I'll come."

"That's okay. I want to make you feel good," she whispered. She tugged his head down, kissing again him as her hand began to move rhythmically once more.

One of his hands braced against the tile wall, the other cupped her jaw as he locked his mouth against hers. Heated pleasure ran through his skin, the pinpricks of hot water at his back only adding to the sensations that traveled through his body. His hips began to move urgently, rocking as he helped her push him into ecstasy.

His mouth broke from hers with a groan as he came hard, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes opened lazily and connected with hers.

Her mouth curved into soft provocative smile, before she leaned forward to kiss him. "That was really hot," she murmured against his lips.

She thought it was cute how he blinked slightly in disorientation. She left him to gain his wits as she eased past him. She reached down to grab the washcloth, intending to wash before all of the hot water ran out.

He took the washcloth from her hands. "Uh uh, baby. You washed me. My turn to wash you."

He wet the cloth in the cooling spray, reaching over for the bar of soap and quickly lathering the cloth. He ran the cloth down one of her arms, before running it over her breasts. Her nipples drew taut as he teased them with the cloth, running it over them in soft circles.

A soft, breathy moan of pleasure left her mouth, as she concentrated on the sensation of the cloth moving against her warming skin.

Draco dropped the cloth, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue laving for a moment before he began to gently suck.

"Oh, my god," she breathed, her back arching slightly.

Her eyes drifted close as he kissed between her breasts and down her stomach before lowering himself to his knees.

Her knees buckled slightly as he dropped soft kisses against her belly. Her hand reached out to grab at a convenient bar for balance.

Draco's hand traced down her left leg, hooking it to twine it over his shoulder. He leaned forward and settled his mouth against her. Her head banged against the tile, as a sob of pleasure was ripped from her mouth.

His tongue moved in soft, slow circles around her clit, with just the right way to drive her insane. She arched into his mouth, her free hand moving to tunnel through his hair. She keened when one of his fingers slipped inside of her, gently thrusting and withdrawing.

She grew hotter and hotter as delight settled into her body. He kept the perfect rhythm, pushing her ever closer to climax.

Her eyes snapped open, a wail escaping her mouth as she came, trembling in the aftermath.

He rose from his knees, kissing her tenderly on the mouth. She wrapped her arms around him, and he ran a and down her back. She felt him pressing against her once more, and smiled, her face buried in his neck.

"Fun as this is," Draco drawled, "the water is getting a bit chilly. Time to take this elsewhere."

He moved away from her to shut off the water as she leaned bonelessly against the cooling tile.

Pushing back the shower curtain, he reached for a towel from the bar next to the tub. He carefully stepped out of the tub, before helping her do the same.

He dried her off, before using the same towel to dry himself.

She tried to squeeze the excess water from her long hair, squealing a bit when he swung her into his arms. "My hair is going to get the sheets wet," she warned as he laid her down on the rumpled bed.

"Who cares?" he said, climbing onto the bed and crashing his lips against hers once more.

Breaking his mouth from hers, he grabbed for one of the the decorative pillows, raising her hips and sliding it under her.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he knelt before her, and he slid inside her in one smooth move. She cried out, her back arching into a curve, as he began to drive into her in deep, pumping thrusts.

His hands were clasped firmly on the curves of her hips, and his eyes almost blanked when she began to rock and swivel, using muscles made strong from dance to blow his mind.

"Fuck, yes, baby," he hissed, his eyes slitted in pleasure, his breath coming out in pants. His hand reached down to trace around her clit as his hips rocked into hers.

"Oh, shit...harder, Draco," she said in between whimpering moans. Her hands reached up to run down the flat, hard muscles of his chest, before reaching back to grasp at the headboard.

He was masterfully claiming her, and she was almost mindless with sensation, little cries of delight escaping her mouth. Pleasure sang through her body as he moved faster and faster, and she helped him surging hotly against him as their tense straining bodies moved ever closer toward the pinnacle of pleasure.

Suddenly she was there, coming hard, spasming around this length, with a scream. The movements pushed him into his own climax, and he came with a low, raw groan.

Once he had gained his breath, he gently moved from her. Dropping down beside her, he laid a kiss against her sweat slicked temple.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

* * *

Taryn stretched with a grumbling moan, the sunlight peeking through the cracks of the window blinds and directly into her face. She reached toward the bedside table to pick up the small digital alarm clock there.

She sat up, unsurprised to see that the bed was empty beside her, she sheets leeched of his warmth. Draco rarely let himself sleep past nine in the morning and it was closer to ten thirty.

Pushing the covers back, she hissed as her feet moved from the bedside rug and touched the icy hardwood floor. Naked, she ran across the floor to the bathroom.

Soon she was in the shower, standing under the hot spray, and soothing away the delicious aches in her body from her rather activity filled night.

Afterward, wrapped warmly in Draco's bathrobe, she quickly brushed her teeth, before tapping her wand against her hair with a quiet spell to dry the heavy strands.

Deciding against transfiguring a new set of underwear, she threw her clothes in the washer instead. Scourgify was fine in a pinch, but nothing was as comfortable as freshly laundered clothes.

She pulled the lapels of the bathrobe closer before popping her head out of the bedroom door. Rico's bedroom door was open, so she figured that he hadn't made it back from Leah's flat yet. She was glad that she'd met them both. She liked knowing that Draco had other people in his life that loved and cared about him. She knew that most of his friends at school weren't even really that, and instead were a front. It had been nice to see him in a setting where he was completely comfortable, something she hadn't seen much outside of his rooms in Serpent Hall.

The sound of Draco hitting the heavy bag in the small home gym the brothers maintained, let her know where he was, and instead of investigating she decided to tend to the rumbling of her empty stomach.

When she opened the cabinets she was relieved to see a box of Lucky Charms – she didn't feel like cooking or going out for anything – which she knew was Draco's. Taryn found it amusing that Draco, who except for the occasional pizza ate extremely healthily, had a secret love of Muggle sugar cereal with ice cold milk. Definitely the ice cold milk part. She had watched him on numerous occasions, usually with one brow risen in amusement, as he dropped ice cubes into his bowl of cereal.

"What? Its _not _weird. The milk's not cold enough if you don't add ice," was all he had said in reply to her expression. She'd bet that Rico had teased him about the habit.

With her bowl of cereal in hand, Taryn moved to the living room, intending to watch telly as she ate. She turned on the telly, flipping absently through the channels before settling on a sitcom rerun. She was stretching her feet out in front of her when her toe stubbed against something under the coffee table.

"Owww." She sat her bowl down on the table, pulling her leg up to rub at her foot.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, coming in the room and smacking a kiss on her mouth.

"You're all sweaty," she said mock complained, kissing him anyway, as she rubbed her foot.

"Sorry," he said apologetically, dropping down onto the couch beside her. "What'd you do to your foot?"

"I hit it against something under the table," Taryn said with a grimace. She leaned over to pull out a light, polished wooden box from under the table. It had a small, square a piece of paper on top. "It was this I think. Its obviously yours," she said, plucking the yellow post-it note with Draco's name scrawled across it from the box.

"I don't know what it is," he said, as she handed the box over to him. "Its has to be something from Rico though. This is his handwriting."

He pulled on the latch, and lifted the lid. Inside was a folded piece of paper. Underneath, lying in a specially made groove of the finely crafted box was combat dagger. An accompanying forearm sheath was buckled on the lid.

Draco sat the box on the table before unfolding the note to read the words there.

_Hey, Bro, _

_I know that you are in some deep shit, and I know that it involves that Voldemort bastard. _

_It really pisses me off that I can't have your back with this, but I know that I probably wouldn't be much help without magic or a wand. If I could, I'd sent you back with a badass Smith & Wesson 29 so you could go you all Dirty Harry on their asses, but yeah, I don't get the Muggle technology not working shit. That leaves me with the basics, so I decided to go traditional. A buddy of mine had one of these, and I know you're crafty enough to smuggle it in. It might not be much, but it would give me a little piece of mind to know that you have it. _

_You won't tell me whats going on, and I can't really get too pissed off about that. We're too much alike, little bro. One thing though, don't go this long again without getting in touch with me or I'll kick your ass. _

_Rico_

Draco smiled a bit at the note. His brother's cocky attitude had managed to transfer clearly on paper. He hadn't gotten in a serious fight with Rico in years, and to be honest he wasn't sure now who would win in a knock down drag out at this point.

He hated knowing that Rico was scared for him – the other boy had already lost one brother – but there was nothing he could do about it. He'd be damned if he brought his brother into a world that he couldn't hope to understand, and one where he would be hopelessly outgunned.

Pulling the dagger from the box, he weighed it in his hand testing the balance. He slipped his fingers into the attached knuckleduster and gripped the hand guard.

Taryn's eyes were wide as she watched him handle the knife. "They teach you how use that thing at the gym?"

Draco's silky hair – which he had allowed to grow a bit too long – fell over his forehead as he leaned forward, his eyes intent on the weapon in his hand. He laughed bitterly. "Dad taught me how to knife fight before I was out of primary school."

He could still remember the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth, and the painful feeling of his head snapping to the side from the force the slaps across the face he'd received when Lucius deemed that he was moving incorrectly. Suffice it to say that he learned, and learned well, rather quickly. In, fact, the only times that he had received even a small smile of approval from his father was when he learned and mastered another skill.

"Didn't your mum have anything to say about that?" Taryn asked quietly.

He looked at her with shadows in his eyes. "Mum is an expert at glossing over things that scare her or are unpleasant. Besides," he said with a shrug, "Dad always healed anything that was too noticeable, and what he didn't my body handled. I was always a pretty fast healer."

Taryn tried to hide the sadness on her face as she thought of the huge chasm between the way that they had both been raised.

In the past she'd always assumed that Draco was a pampered prince, when in fact he was more of a wounded one. While she had been watching Sesame Street on the telly, happily munching cookies and washing them down with milk, Draco had been learning the basics of bladed combat.

Catching her expression, Draco carefully sat the blade back into its box, before pulling her against him. "Don't be sad for me. Its done, there isn't anything that I can do about it, and while at the time I thought differently, now I'm glad for it. If it helps me protect you, then it was worth every drop of blood."

Tears smarted her eyes. "I just...can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you, especially when you were a child that couldn't do anything about it."

He kissed the top of her head. "Its fine...well I guess its not really fine, but its over."

Lucius's ruthless methods, and his terrible choices was one of the things that had driven him to Stygian. Once he had started training there, he had worked himself to the bone to be the best.

The situation with Voldemort had to be remedied. Even if he had to talk to Dumbledore to accomplish that. He hated what his service was doing to the people he cared about, and what it was doing to his head. It was pushing him back into that helpless head space that he had, with his acceptance into Stygian, vowed to never again inhabit.

* * *

0o0

* * *

They stepped out of the taxi, and through the entrance to King's Cross.

Being just after the holiday, the station was packed with Muggles returning home, or heading back there.

Draco, who had most of the clothes he needed for school in his rooms there, had stuffed their school robes into a backpack which he'd slung over his shoulder.

They walked directly toward Platform 9 ¾, hands firmly clasped.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked Taryn quietly, taking in the slightly anxious look on her face as they paused in front of the barrier.

She took a deep breath, stiffening her shoulders. "Yes, I just kind of wish that we could have taken the Knight bus, or apparated to Hogsmeade instead, but I get why we have to do it this way. All the better for making ourselves a public, engaged couple."

"Not to mention that its safer this way. I've heard that they are gonna have Aurors on the train. I guess St. Potter is good for something," he said, flinching a bit when Taryn punched him in the arm.

"Be nice. Even thought they don't know it I'm still their friend," she said. "Enough stalling I guess," she said with a sigh, "lets get on with it."

Hand in hand they walked through the portal.

Beyond the portal, while it was still noisy as ever, it was slightly less crowded. Most students, by the time they began their second year, had convinced their parents not to follow them past the portal. It was usually only the first years that tearfully clung to their parents beside the train.

Taryn was unsurprised to find eyes trained on them as soon as they were sighted, however just as many eyes were zeroed in on one Chase Morgenstern.

Her brow rose as she took in Chase passionately kissing Oliver Wood – who was geared in his navy Puddlemere United Keeper quidditch robes, complete with shoulder/chest guard and knees pads – his helmet lying forgotten on the ground as he kissed his boyfriend. The mud on his robes suggested that he had come directly from practice.

Taryn looked at Draco who was watching the couple with one brow risen in amusement. "Looks like we won't be the only topic of discussion, eh," was all he said.

Smiling, Taryn tugged him over to the oblivious couple. They stood for a second, and when the couple continued to kiss, ignoring them, she interrupted with a loud, "Ahem."

Breaking away, Chase grinned at her with kiss swollen lips. "Hey, Taryn! I don't need to ask you how your holiday went, I've seen all of the magazines. I guess congratulations are in order."

"I see I'm not the only one that had a nice holiday," she said nodding her head toward Olliver, "but thanks for the congrats all the same."

Oliver elbowed his boyfriend, and nudging him back Chase said, "Taryn, Draco, this is Ollie. Ollie, Taryn and Draco. Or the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, and the future Lord and Lady Malfoy, I should say."

Draco grimaced when Taryn turned toward him with a gasp. "Future _Lord_ and _Lady_ Malfoy?! You're in line to be a Lord?"

"I kind of already am. Didn't you discover that when you were researching me?" Draco asked lazily a corner of his mouth tipping up into a grin, fully knowing the answer to the question.

Taryn blushed hotly. She hadn't been worried about his family tree in the least, since she had been more concerned with getting into his trousers. "No, I didn't," she said primly, "You should have told me."

"Must I give the history lesson?" Draco said with a groan.

"Yes, you must." Taryn was interested now, the bookworm inside of her rearing its curious head. Wizarding society really didn't have titles of peerage like Muggles, so she knew that the story had to be interesting.

"Okay," Draco sighed. "The short version is that I had a ancestor, French by birth, who was awarded the title for heroic deeds during the reign of King Stephen while he was at war with Empress Matilda. Dad and Mum are the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire. I'm Viscount Swindon."

Chase was watching them with a cat in cream expression on his face. "Bet you didn't think that you were nabbing a peer did ya, Taryn. Now, show us the ring."

Taryn held out her ring hand with a long suffering sigh.

"Ooooh, I know this cost a pretty penny," Chase whistled. "But I bet it has nothing on the family jewels," he said before he laughed. "Both sets," he said waggling his brows.

"You should only be worrying about my family jewels," Ollie said, his voice mockingly gruff, before pecking a kiss on Chase's mouth. "I have to get going. Coach is going to be on my ass already for leaving practice early, and you have to get on the train anyway."

"Okay, honey-boo," Chase said, pouting. "I'll see you in a few weeks, yeah? I love you."

"I love you too, Star," Ollie said, looking at the other boy warmly before taking his leave.

"You guys are too cute," Taryn said, "I guess you ironed things out?"

"Let's just say that I had a _very_ good New Year's eve and day," Chase said with a naughty smile.

Once on the train they found an empty compartment toward the back. Draco immediately commandeered one of the benches, stretching his legs out with his back against the wall, and pushing the backpack behind his head as a makeshift pillow.

Taryn took one look at his relaxed pose before climbing on the bench with him, settling between his legs, her back against his chest.

Chase snorted. "And you said that Ollie and I were too cute. No pre-shagging in here or I refuse to ride with you."

"We wouldn't shag on the train!" Taryn said, scandalized.

"Speak for yourself," Draco murmured.

Taryn's eyes narrowed. "Have you?"

Draco belatedly realized that he had just stepped into it. "Uh...that was before you."

Chase started laughing. "You just talked yourself out of an on train blowjob."

Taryn's mouth opened in shock but Chase interrupted her. "Oh, don't even try it. You know that if I wasn't in here that you would be molesting him. I bet you're just waiting on pins and needles for me to go for a bathroom break," he joked.

Taryn sniffed. "Whatever, Viscountesses-to-be wouldn't act in such a manner."

"Yeah, that isn't going to fly," Chase said, shaking his head, "especially since you didn't even know that you were going to be one. Really though, enough with the witty repartee. I want to know how this whole engagement thing happened. Last I knew you were in tears over him, now, you're engaged. So, spill."

Draco sat up. "You were in tears?"

"Yes, she was," Chase said, gruffly, "And if I couldn't see that she's so happy now I'd be hexing your ass into next week, but for now I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

Taryn looked uncomfortable. She turned her head up to look into Draco's eyes. "It was the night of the Christmas party. It was when I figured everything out."

Chase's brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the serious undertones in what she had just said. "Get back to the how you got engaged part," Chase said, pushing for more of the story.

"I didn't expect to see her until I got back to school, but mum wanted me to escort her to the St. Mungo's Charity Ball. I saw Taryn there, dancing with some slimy bloke," Draco said, frowning.

Taryn rolled her eyes. "And he practically freaked. Sasha's the son of my step-mum's best friend."

"And an old boyfriend," Draco cut in.

Taryn sighed. "Anyway, Draco saw me and asked me to leave with him. Honestly, I missed him and the party was pretty boring, so it wasn't too hard to convince me to leave. I've been staying with him instead of going back home."

"You were shacking up at Malfoy Manor?" Chase said with disbelief.

"No, we stayed at a friends apartment for a couple days," Draco said. "I proposed there."

"I _know_ that your parents can't be happy Taryn. The happiest have got to be the magazine publishers. I bet they are making a shit load of money off of this. I saw at least four magazines with your faces on the cover," Chase said.

"Its just because of the shit with my dad," Draco said angrily. "If he wasn't in Azkaban there wouldn't be as much interest."

Chase scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that. Taryn is an heiress. You're part of the aristocracy. People are going to be interested anyway."

"You aren't a slouch in the fortune department," Taryn pointed out.

"Yeah, but we all know that no one has money like your family has," Chase said, before turning to Draco. "Did your mum freak out too?"

"Actually, she was surprisingly okay with it. She even wants to help plan the wedding," Taryn answered, her lips quirking at Chase's widening eyes. "My parents, like you said, are anything but happy. They threatened to send me to the states if I didn't break it off."

Chase's eyes widened further. "Wow, really? That's heavy. What did you tell them?"

"I told them that I'd run away somewhere and they would never find me. I don't think that they realized how serious I am about marrying Draco. We don't intend to marry soon," she added quickly, "It will be a long engagement. We're both still underage, so its not legal. Draco's mum would probably give her permission, but I know that its too much to hope for that my parents will do the same."

She was actually really glad about that. She loved Draco, but she was wholly in favor of a longer engagement. She had barely wrapped her mind around the fact that she was going to be someone's wife, let alone a Viscountess. She would _definitely_ be having words with Draco about _that _issue.

"When is your birthday again?" Chase asked.

Taryn opened her mouth to say September nineteenth, but paused. Her forehead wrinkled. "It's July fourteenth. Draco's is June fifth, but we aren't in a rush to get to the alter, so yeah, it will most definitely be a long engagement."

"You gonna live together at the Manor?" Chase asked levelly. Everyone knew that Malfoy Manor was Deatheater central, even if they couldn't prove it. He just stopped short of saying so because he didn't want to hurt Taryn's feelings, but he was sure that Draco understood him.

"Hell, no," Draco said. "We're gonna get an apartment this summer."

"It will probably be a small one, since we're going to have to save money. We don't really want to mooch off of Draco's parents, and I won't be able to even touch my trust fund until I'm twenty-one," Taryn said. "My dad can't cut me off from that since it was money left from my mum. I get a second one when I'm twenty-five from my dad, that is if he decides not to cut me off," she said softly, before brightening. "At least you can come crash at our apartment when you want. It would be fun. Maybe we can even go out on double dates."

Draco smiled at her enthusiasm. He was glad that she wasn't focusing on all of the things that could happen with their rather precarious situation. He was trying to do the same, but was finding it a bit harder than she was. Perhaps it was because he didn't really have an inherently cheery nature. He liked to have fun as much as the next bloke, but he had never been the type of person that bounced off of the walls with happy optimism. If he ever had been, Lucius had taken care of that years ago. He could count on his hands the times he had played with happy abandon as a child, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on it, especially now since he had so much to live for. A vision of a life with purpose and promise had taken root inside of him, and he'd fight with everything he had to make sure it happened.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Taryn moaned a little as she woke from her cozy resting place. She had dozed off in Draco's arms. She sat up slowly, not wanting to wake Draco as well.

Chase was across from them, a battered copy of The Shining, by Stephen King in his hands, his eyes intent on the words.

She stood with a stretch. Yawning she asked, "Have we been asleep long?"

"Long enough," Chase said, looking up from his book. "We're nearly there. You missed most of the rubber necking as everyone and their best friend walked past this compartment to get a look at you two. Well, of course they could have been coming to stare at the gay boy who was seen kissing his extremely hot boyfriend," he said with a grin. "I finally had to pull out my book. Once they saw that you two were asleep and I was reading, traffic died down."

"Ugh, how do you read that horror junk," Taryn said pointing at the book with a grimace.

"This one is good," Chase said defensively. "You should read more than dusty old textbooks and maybe you'd appreciate this piece of horror magnificence."

"You're probably only reading it because of the movie," she said with a laugh.

"So what? Jack Nicholson was creepy as fuck in that movie," Chase said with a shudder.

"Whatever. We missed the beverage cart and I'm dying of thirst. Do you want something?"

"A bottled water would be nice," Chase said, pulling out a couple of coins.

She pocketed them before turning back to Draco, who had surprisingly stayed asleep through the entire conversation. Leaning over, she brushed her lips against his, smiling when his eyes popped open. "I'm going to go get something to drink. Do you want anything?"

Draco stretched, pulling her down to get a slightly longer kiss. "Some apple juice?"

"Okay, I'll be right back," she murmured against his lips.

She walked down the corridor, ignoring the interested gazes of the other students peering out the windows of their compartments, and headed to the buffet car.

She dropped two bottles of water and a bottle of apple juice into the sack the witch provided her. On impulse she also bought a few chocolate frogs as well. It felt like it had been ages since she'd last had one, and as soon as she saw the box her sugar tooth had awakened with a vengeance. Draco, who wasn't that big of a fan of chocolate – which she found amazing. Who didn't like chocolate?! – wouldn't ask for any and she'd be able to be a little bit of a piggy about them. Chase on the other hand, would likely grab for one as soon as he saw the box.

She was dropping the candy into the bag, and thus was a little unprepared, when she found herself face to face with none other than Pansy Parkinson.

She sighed. She had hoped to avoid a confrontation, at least until they were actually back at Hogwarts.

She wasn't worried about Pansy trying to hex, or throw any unfriendly spells. There were far too many non-Slytherin students with their faces practically pressed against the glass of their compartments as they waited with interest to see what the girls would say to each other. A few, rather unashamedly, had even opened the doors so they wouldn't miss a word.

"What do you want Parkinson?" she asked with a sigh.

"Just a friendly chat, Davis," Pansy said, her tone rife with anything but friendliness.

"Must we do this? I'm thirsty and tired, and I just want to go back and sit with my fiance," Taryn said, watching the other girl's face turn ugly with malice at the term she'd used regarding Draco.

"What does he want with _you_?" Pansy's voice hissed, thick with hate. "Did he knock you up or something? You can't be stupid enough to think that he'll stay with you," she said with disdain. "Why he asked you to marry his is beyond me. You're nothing more than a handy fuck, just like the rest of the other stupid slags who opened their legs for him. As soon as he's tired of you he'll realize what a mistake ever involving himself with was."

Taryn wanted badly to pull out her wand to curse the girl, and barely pushed back the impulse. Even she was surprised at what came out of her mouth next. "I'm more than just a fuck. I'm the best bloody fuck he's ever had and I blow his mind on a regular basis," she retorted. "He knows he has a good thing and he won't be going anywhere. More importantly he loves _me_, he _never_ loved _you_. In fact he doesn't even care enough to despise you. You're not important enough to warrant even a second thought."

Pansy moved toward her with a hiss, her hand moving back in a slapping motion.

Taryn dropped the sack , whipping her wand out quickly. The other girl paused mid-step as the wand was placed firmly under her chin.

Taryn tisked. "You would think that you'd have learned the first time that we did this, Parkinson. If it wasn't for that Auror," she nodded at the man who was walking briskly toward them from the other end of the corridor, "I'd teach you another lesson. You speak so much on your Pureblood superiority, and yet you have no class. You can't even get it through your thick skull when a man doesn't want you."

"He won't stay with you. I'll have him when this is all over, and you won't even be a memory," Pansy said through clenched teeth.

"Really?" Taryn said, stepping away from the other girl, as the Auror finally reached them. She raised her hand, allowing the diamond to catch the light. "Who has the ring on her finger?"

"Break this up ladies, unless you both want to be expelled," the burly Auror said, his tone expressing his dislike of his current position. "Now each of you go back to your respective seats."

Pansy turned away before throwing one comment over her shoulder. "This isn't over bitch."

"Bring it anytime bitch," Taryn threw back, leaning over to pick up her fallen sack, before striding back down the corridor to her own compartment.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

* * *

"When do you want to let Dumbledore know that we want to speak with him?" Draco asked.

They were sitting on his bed, both clad in pajamas for the night. At least what they considered pajamas. Taryn was wearing the long sleeved top from a pair of pajamas that Narcissa had bought Draco, and which he refused to wear. Draco, of course, was wearing his ever present sweats and a tee-shirt that had been washed so many times in was nearly paper thin.

Taryn had finally given up the pretense of sharing a room with Chase, and moved her things into Draco's rooms. She knew that Snape had other things with which to occupy his mind, and figured that her living arrangements weren't the pinnacle of importance.

As much as being at Hogwarts was the root of all of all of their problems at present, Draco was happy to have the privacy that the rooms afforded once more.

The stares that they had endured on the train, and during the welcome back feast earlier that night had been extremely uncomfortable. The fact that no one was ashamed to be found staring, or even holding one of those bloody magazines didn't help the situation in the least.

Taryn had forced herself to eat a small salad, fielding impertinent questions and outright rude observations. Fortunately they had only had to deal with the questions from their own house, but judging by the stares from the other tables, the Patil twins had done a excellent job spreading rumors.

Playing the part of a loving couple to the T, they had held hands, and looked in to each others eyes with unashamed affection. At least that part was real, Taryn had told herself.

"I think that we should wait a few days before we contact him," Taryn said, "just to get settled back into classes. Dumbledore is going to be pretty busy I should think. Also there is the problem of how to approach him. It's not like we can just go up to him in the Great Hall."

"Snape is also out of the question as far as a liaison," Draco pointed out, his fingers lazily trailing through her hair.

"Dumbledore trusts him," Taryn said.

"That's not really ruling in Dumbledore's favor," Draco said, "I don't care if he is part of the Order of the Phoenix or not. I've spent my life around people with hidden agendas and I'm telling you that Snape has one."

Taryn had felt only the tiniest bit of guilt at revealing Snape's involvement in the order, but since she had been determined to get Draco to speak with Dumbledore she'd used everything she had to get him to agree. She mollified herself with the fact that she hadn't actually been part of the Order, and thus not subject to all of its rules. And really, it hadn't been much of a secret after the Department of Mysteries, that the Order had reconvened. Draco had known that much already, just not that Snape was a part of it.

Even though he knew that Snape was a spy for the Order, and that Dumbledore was its head, Draco still was uncomfortable with the thought of revealing himself to the man. He was used to taking care of things himself, and wasn't looking forward to leaning on someone that he didn't quite trust. The only reason he had agreed was Taryn. If she trusted Dumbledore, well, then he would_ attempt_ to do the same. Also, judging by her past Harry-esque escapades, Taryn wouldn't have a problem concocting an extremely brave, but most likely naive plan of her own if he didn't agree to at least speak with the man.

"We just have to take a chance," Taryn said quietly, "we don't have much of a choice. Dumbledore has resources that we don't. What other options do we have? It's not like he'll stand still and let you murder him. I don't want you to even have to try it, but if you don't attempt it, Voldemort, or one of his lackeys will kill you outright. We have to go to Dumbledore."

"I know all the reasons why we have to talk with him, but that doesn't mean I have to like it," Draco said glumly. "I'm only doing this for you, and I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die, and like you said the other options are less than desirable."

"I think that we can just owl him. We'll use one of the school owls to send him a note requesting a meeting. That will allow a certain amount of discretion, and allow him to send his response in the same manner," Taryn said, after a moment of thought.

"I have to take care of the Imperius that I placed on Rosmerta as well," Draco said, grimacing at the prospect.

'You're going to have to Obliviate her or she is bound to say something to someone about it. You'll have to find some way to get her alone to do it, though."

Draco chuckled. "I don't think that will be a problem." He remembered vividly how eager the witch had been when she thought he was there to seduce her.

Taryn's brow rose. "Oh really? Y'know, you never did tell me how you got her alone the first time, though I'm sure I can guess. I've heard some rumors about how she can be very..._accommodating_ to some of Hogwarts blokes that she finds handsome," she began, her tone suspicious.

"And most of the rumors are probably all true," Draco said, leaning back against the headboard with a sigh.

Taryn definitely didn't like the sound of that. "So, tell me, was she _accommodating_?"

She didn't want to think that Draco had taken anything that the curvy witch would have offered. As much as she loved Draco, she hated the looks that women gave him. Her dislike wasn't on par with Draco's jealousy, but still. She couldn't believe some of the hot looks he received, even while she walked with him, with her hand in his. It wasn't like he was the bloody Prince of Wales!

"Nothing that I haven't been offered before," Draco's voice was leery. He could tell that Taryn was getting into a mood. The girl had a temper that he was well acquainted with, and which he very much hoped to avoid.

He was surprised when she swung one shapely leg over him, and settled, straddling his lap.

"I didn't take it," he added, his low, and his eyes trained on her hands as she began to slowly pop the top buttons free on her pajama top.

"Why not?" Her voice was muffled against his neck, as she abandoned her top, and began to place soft kisses against the warm skin there. She wriggled in his lap, feeling him harden against her.

He leaned his head to the side to give her full access. "Because I was waiting on something far better."

"Good answer," she murmured against his lips with a grin.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The next morning, after a stop at the owlery to send the note off to Dumbledore, they were treated to more of the same scrutiny. Unlike the day before it was easier, since they knew what to expect, and could conduct themselves accordingly.

They walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand and sat next to Chase.

Crabble and Goyle, surprisingly, came to sit next to them, breaking away from the usual group.

"Um, It surprised us to hear that you got engaged Draco," Goyle spoke for the both of them.

Crabble grabbed for a breakfast bun, biting a huge mouthful, and nodding in agreement at Goyle's statement.

Taryn was surprised to hear an articulate statement from one of the two boys. Usually they had just echoed whatever taunt Draco had thrown out, or added some intelligible grunt in reply to anything said to them outside of class. In class, they provided a comedic element whenever they attempted to answer questions from the teacher. Draco had obviously always been the brains of the operation, though it now seemed that Goyle wasn't completely thick.

"Why is that?" Draco asked lazily, before sipping at his pumpkin juice.

"Well, you don't stay with girls very long. You were with Pansy for a year, and didn't propose. You've been with Taryn for only a few months right?" Goyle asked.

The other students at the table looked on with great interest for Draco's reply.

Draco didn't disappoint. "When you find that person, I guess, you just know," he said, laying it on thick. He raised Taryn's ringed hand, kissing it softly before lacing their fingers together.

Taryn was a little stunned to see a little of the Draco that she knew and loved – the tenderness that came out behind closed doors – revealed in so romantic a fashion to the entire house. She knew that while the sentiment behind the statement was real, he was putting on a show for the crowd. Still, though, it didn't stop a tiny tendril of joy from curling inside of her at his public words.

That, and the fact that Pansy looked like she'd smelled something foul, brought a genuine smile to her face.

"Did you see the board this morning?" Chase asked, breaking into the conversation and ending the awkward lapse.

"No, what did it say?" Draco asked. He had been extremely lax in his Prefect duties, letting Pansy take over all the slack. He'd figured that she needed the extra activity to keep her big nose out of his relationship.

"An Apparition instructor from the ministry is coming to start lessons. They're going to be given over twelve weeks," Chase said, before taking a bite out of a sausage patty.

"It doesn't take twelve weeks to learn to Apparate," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He'd been doing it - illegally of course – for years.

"That's the amount of time the Ministry says it takes to be properly instructed," Taryn said, "I'm sure you've read about Inglewood Monkshood?"

"Ingle-whos Monks-what?" Chase asked in amusement. He was used to her nerdy facts by now, but it still amused him to hear her rattle them off.

"He's the reason they have the minimum requirement. He Apparated unsuccessfully, in 1604 I think, after being self taught," she refused to look at Draco while she was saying this, "and was Splinched into several pieces that they were unable to repair. I believe that there is a statue to his memory somewhere, I have to look it up if you are interested in the location. I think it might be in Dublin...or maybe..."

She trailed off when Chase began to snort in laughter. "What? Its interesting," she said with a frown.

"And you talked about my Stephen King?" Chase managed to say between wheezing laughter.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Later that week Taryn received a received a reply from Dumbledore.

_Miss Davis, _

_I have an open appointment at 4pm on Monday. Please send me notice if you are unable to meet at that time. The temporary password is Skittle. _

_AD_

Taryn frowned at how tersely worded the message was.

"_..._but didn't it seem sort of abrupt?" She asked Draco for seemingly the thousandth time as they made their way toward Potions.

"What do you expect?" Draco said in a whisper. "You are the fiancée of a rumored Deatheater, not the Gryffindor Princess any longer." He felt an immediate bite of regret at her flinch. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's not a secret that Harry is a a favorite of Dumbledore's. You and the Weasel were as well," he said.

"But..." Taryn began.

"I'm not saying that he didn't like you for your own merits," Draco interrupted, "Just that the rest of us don't warrant the exact same regard."

Taryn frowned. Even though she was getting used to the cold shoulder that she got from members of her own house, it still hurt every single time when she received the treatment from people that used to be her friends. She was surprised to get some of that from Dumbledore. Oh, his note wasn't impolite, it just had none of the warmth that she was used to receiving from the man. She also didn't like to think that maybe she _had _gotten some preferential treatment from Dumbledore or any of her other professors for that matter. It was definitely something that she would think about seriously later.

Draco rubbed her back. "It'll be okay baby. As long as he gets us what we need we can deal with all of the other shit."

Taryn nodded, even as she pushed back the tinge of sadness that came with the action. At least she had school to look forward to, she told herself, as they settled in at their seat in the Potions classroom.

"Settle down, settle down," Slughorn said, calling over the din of students. "Lots to do today. Now, who can tell me Gopalott's Third Law?"

Taryn's hand flew into the air. "Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components."

"Correct," beamed Slughorn. "Ten points to Slytherin. Also, might I add that I was delighted to hear of the engagement between you and Mr. Malfoy. I hope to receive an invitation, of course," he added, before turning his attention back to the class. "Now, if we accept this law as true, which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion's ingredients by Scarpin's Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in a of themselves, but to find that added component which will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate elements —"

Draco half listened as the man prattled on and on, his mind far more engaged with what he was going to say at the meeting between Dumbledore, Taryn, and himself. Taryn had carefully not mentioned that he would also be in attendance, since they, of course, wanted the man to make himself available to them. They figured that Dumbledore probably already had many preconceived notions on why Taryn wanted to meet in the first place, without tipping their hand prematurely.

"… and so," finished Slughorn, "I want one from each partnership to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't forget your protective gloves!"

Taryn moved to the desk and grasped a vial, returning to their table with a grin on her face. "This is going to be fun," she said, rubbing her hands together at the prospect of a challenging potion.

Draco's brow rose in amusement at her tone. "I hope you know what you're doing because I really only got about half of the explanation for this lesson. It's not anyone is going to get noticed with the Potion master over there," he said under his breath, nodding his head toward Harry. He still didn't know how the other boy had advanced so much this year, when he had only had average potion making skills the previous year.

"I don't know," Taryn said, tipping the phial into the cauldron in front of them, and kindling a fire beneath it. "This time you have to understand all the principles behind the brewing, so I think that we have a fighting chance at least."

"If you say so," Draco said, pulling out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

Slughorn was making a circuit of the class room, peering in cauldrons as he went. Draco watched in delight as he glanced in Harry's cauldron, pulling back quickly with a grimace before hastily moving to another table.

"You might be right this time," he said, turning to Taryn with a grin. He turned his attention to their antidote and didn't see Harry make his way to the store cupboard, before returning to his seat.

"...aaaand time's up," Slughorn called. "Let's see how you've done! Miss Davis, Mr. Malfoy, let's see what you have to offer," he said, peering into their cauldron. "Hmmm, it looks like you were on the right track. Shame you didn't get to finish."

Slowly, Slughorn moved around the room, examining the various antidotes. No one had been able to complete the task, and most had failed completely, their antidotes resting like sludge in their cauldrons.

Slughorn stopped in front of Harry's table last. He sighed, "And, what have you to show me?"

Draco watched as Harry opened his hand to reveal a small, shriveled brown lump. "What the hell is..." Draco began, turning toward Taryn.

His question stopped abruptly when Slughorn burst into loud laughter. "You've got nerve," the man said, directing his comment to Harry, "Oh, you are like your mother! A bezoar would indeed act as an antidote to all of these potions."

"Did you know about that?" Draco asked Taryn.

"Well, I've read about them," Taryn said, "but I thought the lesson was to _brew _an antidote," she said with a frown.

"That's the inventive spirit that a real potion-maker needs!" Slughorn was saying. "Your mother had the same intuitive grasp of potion making. Yes, Harry, if you have a bezoar on hand it would most likely do the trick, though they don't work on everything, and knowing how to brew a proper antidote..."

Draco had already tuned the man's voice out as he began to think once more about what exactly he wanted say to Dumbledore.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER WARNING: **This chapter includes an outtake and Slash scene between Chase/Oliver. It is clearly marked so if you don't want to read it then you can skip it.

Also, thanks to a helpful review from Calimocho, I've been informed that I made a mistake on the legal driving age for England. It didn't realize that it was actually eighteen. Since it would kind of mess up the flow of the chapter if I changed it now, I'll leave it. You all can either pretend that the legal age is sixteen, or that Chase did some awesome wizard thing to get his license. :P

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

* * *

On Saturday the Apparition Instructor from the Ministry arrived to Hogwarts. It was cold and stormy morning, the air filled with damp and the scent of ozone.

Everyone – all four Heads of Houses and students – stood in the Great Hall. The long house tables were missing, and the enchanted ceiling above them mirrored the dark sky beyond the rain dotted high windows.

The Ministry official was a small, oddly colorless wisp of a man. Taryn wondered if his frequent disappearances and reappearances has somehow whittled away at his frame, leaving just a fraction of the man he once was.

His voice, when he spoke was booming, and not at all expected when judged against his appearance. "Good morning. My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition Instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you to be ready to take you test in this time frame. As you know may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice." His voice grew stern as he cautioned, "May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you will be unwise to try."

Twycross rubbed his hands together, obviously in his element, as he began to explain Apparition theory and practice. "Now, I'm sure most of you have read about Apparition, but I find it important in my line of work to delve further into the subject, especially on the first day of lessons. Apparition, aside from the broom of course, it a wizard or witches preferred and most expedient mode of travel. All witches and wizards are capable of Apparating, and age was not always a factor, but after of the unfortunate Monkshood Incident strict laws were passed policing its use. It takes a Ministry approved twelve week course and a passing grade on your examination to be licensed. It is possible to Apparate without doing so, but if you are caught there are very hefty fines, as well as possible prison time that can result from such an action, so I do caution you against such a foolish action."

"Also that would put him out of a job if no one bothered to get licensed," Draco whispered wryly, prompting a muffled giggle from Taryn and Chase.

"The ability to Apparate is an extremely useful skill, and doesn't pollute the atmosphere like those dreadful Muggle vehicles," Twycross droned.

"I don't care what he says. I love my Lambo, and I'm _not_ giving up my baby," Chase said bluntly, causing those around him who knew what a Lamborghini was to snicker.

"Silence!" Snape hissed, when he noticed the muffled laughter originating from the students from his house.

Twycross seemed oblivious and continued speaking. "When you Apparate properly you avoid the risk of Splinching, which can sometimes be fatal. That is where the lessons come in. I will do my utmost to prepare you as best I can, but I must be honest. Some people don't will not ever have the talent to Apparate further than a room away. Apparition depends entirely on the amount of inherent magical talent a witch or witch possesses. Some of you will have to be content with your broom, or more traditional modes of travel, to journey long distances. A few of you will be able to successfully Apparate across oceans and continents. There is constant research into the future uses for Apparition. Some have even proposed that the extremely powerful might even be capable of trans-dimensional travel, or even jumps to different planets, though I don't know why one would want to do that, especially with out knowing for sure if there would be oxygen or not. I guess, of course, you could use a Bubblehead charm, or some such to..."

"He sounds like you Taryn," Chase whispered under his breath, prompting a sharp elbow into the side from her for his comment.

"–I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you," Twycross said.

He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in from of every student.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" said Twycross. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!

"Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination," said Twycross. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

Taryn concentrated on a spot directly in the center of her hoop, firmly painting a picture of that spot in her mind. Draco had given her given her the theory behind Apparition, but they hadn't had time to go somewhere to practice, and had decided to wait for the lessons instead.

"Step two," said Twycross, "focus your determination to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body. Step three: only when I give the command… turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation. On my command, now… one...two...three!"

Taryn felt the world get slightly fuzzy before she felt a familiar pull. Her eyes blinked close, and when she opened them she was inside her hoop. A big grin broke out on her face. Draco was standing in the hoop to her right, a rare public smile gracing his handsome features as he noticed her obvious delight at success.

Chase, who had been on her left, had also managed to appear in his hoop as well. Looking around her she laughed when she noticed that Pansy was flat on her back on the floor, looking supremely pissed at her failure.

The other girl gave her a venomous glare, before gaining her feet and brushing dust from her robes.

Only one other person, a small girl from Hufflepuff, had managed to appear in her hoop the first time.

"Magnificent," Twycross said, congratulating the students that made it on the first attempt. "For everyone else, don't be discouraged, learning properly takes time. Now, everyone, Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions…"

They practiced several times, and Taryn began to get a bit bored, until she heard a horrible screech of pain.

Everyone looked around, terrified, to see Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away where she had started.

The Heads of House converged on her; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Susan sobbing, reunited with her leg but looking horrified.

"Apparition is not without its risks. Splinching, or the separation of random body parts," said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, "occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continually upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation… thus."

Twycross stepped forward, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms outstretched and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall. "Remember the three D's," he said, "and try again… one — two — three."

An hour later, Susan's Splinching was still the most interesting thing that had happened. Twycross did not seem discouraged. Fastening his cloak at his neck, he merely said, "Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation."

With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall.

"Thank Merlin that's over. I was starting to get tired of that bloke," Chase said lowly, "I don't know if I'll be able to last an entire twelve weeks. I might apply for early testing."

"You can do that?" Taryn asked, interest thick in her voice.

"Sure, it's a little costly, but I think it might be worth it just so I won't have to suffer through that again. I swear I can't listen to him go on another strange tangent about inter-dimensional travel," Chase said with a shutter.

"I bet Malfoy is pissed," A voice said from behind them, "I'd be fucking pissed if I found out that my girl was with another bloke. You said you fucked her after the Christmas party right, Serrano?"

Draco stopped abruptly, turning around to see who had spoken.

Serrano, was leaning against the wall behind him, a mixed group of blokes from other houses standing around him, laughing with the smirking wizard.

A snarl ripped from Draco's mouth as he started toward them. "Who fucking said that?" Menace threaded his voice, and a few of the other boys looked at him once before backing away from from Serrano.

Taryn's hand on his arm made him pause for a moment. "It's not true. I didn't –" she wasn't able to finish her comment because Draco was shrugging her hand from his arm, and whipping out his wand on the other boy.

Serrano lazily pulled out his wand, aiming it toward Draco. "What rich boy? You mad that your girl gave it up? She's a hot little piece, I see why you keep it locked up."

Taryn's eyes widened as Draco began to literally shake with wrath. He moved, almost to quick to follow, and Serrano's wand was ripped from his hand – without the use of Expelliarmus – and his, along with Draco's were allowed to clatter to the floor.

Draco grabbed a fistful of the other boy's shirt and used it to throw him against the stone floor.

"Draco! Stop!" Taryn screamed as she watched her fiance straddle the other boy and begin laying punishing strike's to Felix's face. Blood flew from the bigger boy's mouth, and the crunch of his nose breaking was audible.

"Effodiunt!" Snape's voice called over the din of the egging of the crowd of boys. None of the other boy's had thought to stop the fight, and after one look at Snape's face, the majority suddenly decided that they had other places to be.

Draco was paused mid-punch, freezing in his position on top of the other boy.

"What is going on here?" Snape grabbed the back of Draco's robe to pull the him away from Felix.

Draco's muscles began to relax as the spell faded, his eyes widened as full realization of what had just happened came over him "He–"

Felix moaned in pain, curled into a fetal position on the floor, blood and spittle trailing from his mouth, and pooling on the floor.

"Seventy points from Slytherin," Snape said, angrily. His dark gaze pinpointed on Taryn, before returning to Draco. "You and Miss Davis will report to the headmaster's office immediately," He raised his wand, and let out a small shower of blue sparks. "He will be expecting you."

Draco leaned down to pick up his wand from the floor, grimacing at both his bruised knuckles and the blood that now decorated them. He didn't understand what had just happened. He had never lost control of his anger like that, and when he looked at Taryn, and saw the fear in her eyes, he hated himself in that moment.

They walked down the empty stone hall in silence for a moment before he finally spoke. "Baby, please...you don't have to be afraid of me. I would never, ever, hurt you. I'd kill myself before I'd do anything to hurt you," he said quietly, his voice sincere and earnest.

"What the fuck was that Draco?" Taryn's slightly hysteric voice was almost a shout. She took in a breath, hands up, before blowing out the breath, and calming herself. "I know that you won't hurt _me_, Draco, but you scared me. Why wouldn't you listen to me?" He didn't have to tell her that he wouldn't hurt her. She knew that he wouldn't, but still, he'd scared her. His complete loss of control scared her.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," tears choked his voice. "I just...When I heard what they were saying I just...lost it. Something is wrong with me, Taryn. I've been feeling – I don't know – strange for awhile. This isn't me. I'm not this jealous bloke that flies off the handle at words. I've heard far worse, but it seems that when it comes to you, all bets are off."

"You can't do this," Taryn said evenly, "We'll find out what's wrong. We'll fix it." Determination stiffened her shoulders. "But you can't let this happen again. It has repercussions. _He_ is going to hear about this, and we don't know how he'll take it." They both knew exactly who _he_ was.

Draco held out his hand for Taryn's. He was gratified when she immediately placed her small hand within his. He squeezed her hand gently, ignoring the slight twinge of pain that accompanied the action.

Soon they were outside the Headmaster's office.

As if it were expecting them, the gargoyle moved, sliding away to expose a narrow staircase. Climbing the stairs quickly, they paused in front of the heavy polished door, tapping at it lightly.

The door popped open, and with a quick glance at each other, they entered the room.

Bright, artificial sunight spilled into the office from high windows, clearly illuminating the portraits of previous headmasters that dotted the walls of the room.

Draco eyed the portraits uneasily. He knew that the painted inhabitants could be used as spies, and he didn't like the keen interest in their eyes as they watched him walk across the room with Taryn.

He didn't like the office. It seemed...cluttered, as if with one nudge all the contents of the room would topple over like dominoes.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, hands resting on the smooth wooden surface. One hand was blackened and burnt-looking. Dumbledore pulled one of the sleeves of his robe down over the hand when he noted Draco's interest. What had happened to it? Draco wondered for a moment, before pushing the thought away. He had more pertinent issues to take care of.

"Miss Davis, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore inclined his head in greeting. "Please have a seat," his hand waved to two armchairs that popped into existence in front of his desk.

They both sat down into the surprisingly comfortable chairs, and waited for Dumbledore to speak.

"Professor Snape tells me that you were involved in an altercation with another student," Dumbledore said, looking Draco in the eye. "I shouldn't need to tell you that fighting is not allowed on school premises. I am prepared to be lenient. I know it can't be easy adjusting this school year, especially since your father is in prison at the moment."

"Don't talk about–" Draco began.

"That is very generous of you sir," Taryn interrupted, throwing Draco a sharp, chastising look. "Maybe we can take this as an opportunity to discuss the problem I wanted to speak with you about."

"I'm curious as to why you felt the need to speak with me privately," Dumbledore said.

A house elf popped into the room, a tray with a teapot, cups, and a plate of biscuits balanced in his hands.

"Is there anything else sir wants?" the house elf said, sitting the tray on Dumbledore's desk.

"No, that will be all, Tisky," Dumbledore said. "Would either of you like tea?" The teapot rose into the air, pouring three steaming cups of tea.

"That would be love–" Taryn began, reaching for a teacup. Draco's hand against hers stopped her movement.

Draco shook his head slightly at her surprised look. He vividly remembered Umbridge's use of Veritiserum, and he wasn't going to allow anything to pass either of their lips until they had everything on the table.

"No?" Dumbledore ignored the slight. "The tea is very nice with these spiced almond wafers, and very pleasant on a chill day like this one."

"We aren't here for a tea party," Draco said bluntly. He wasn't at all fooled by the man's twinkly eyes and cheery mood.

"No, you're here because you assaulted another student. Maybe its time that you tell me exactly what you both wanted to speak with me about," Dumbledore said, his pleasant mood evaporating, as seriousness settled on his face.

"Of course, as long as you don't mind invoking Privata Loqui for the duration of this meeting," Draco said, eying the portraits once more with suspicion.

"Why you arrogant pup," one of the portraits behind the desk hissed in affront. "Children these days have no

respect. Why, in my day–" his voice cut off as each of the portraits around the room shuttered as the spell Dumbledore spoke activated.

"Thank you sir," Draco said reluctantly.

"Since you feel the need for a private speak spell, I would ask that you and Miss Davis also let me invoke Veracitas," Dumbledore said quietly, pulling a small hourglass from his desk. There was weight beyond the request, and Draco could tell that the meeting wouldn't go much further if he didn't agree.

Veracitas, a spell that was similar to Veritiserum, was a truth spell. When invoked Veracitas, in conjunction with an hourglass to time the spell, causes anyone within range to speak only truth. It could not force you to speak, but it you did only truth would fall from your lips.

Draco looked at Taryn, and she agreed with a barely noticeable nod. "How long is your hourglass?"

"This particular model lasts twenty minutes," Dumbledore replied.

"Then we agree," Taryn said, before turning to Draco. "I want you to tell him about me. We should start with that first."

Dumbledore tapped his wand against the hourglass, speaking the spell to activate it. "You may begin, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco didn't know how to begin, but he figured that he couldn't go wrong with plain speak. The truth spell would support his words, and was one of the reasons he agreed. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to dispute the validity of his words, especially since he himself had performed the spell.

"Taryn is actually Hermione Granger. She was reborn into this body, and given a second chance at life," Draco blurted out.

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly. "Why didn't you tell me this yourself, Hermione? I would have helped you in any way that I could if you had only came to me."

Taryn closed her eyes. It felt good to hear her name, and she relished it for a moment before opening her once more. "It was a condition of my deal with _them. _I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, and though it was difficult, I was prepared to never tell anyone who I really was."

"I've heard many theories about the afterlife, but this is the first time that I have heard of anyone returning. Why did they allow you to return?"

"They told me that my death was a mistake, one that they wanted to rectify. I wanted to come back in my own body, but it wasn't possible. I had been buried already. This body – Tracey – was fated to die, so they gave me her body."

"I don't understand," Dumbledore said, "Why does Draco know who you really are if you weren't allowed to tell?"

"The person that was responsible for my death felt guilty. She went against rules to amend part of my bargain. I was able to tell only one and only one person who I actually was and that person is the only one that can tell others who I am."

"I don't want to sound indelicate," Dumbledore said carefully, "but I know that you and Draco weren't friends in your previous life. How did you go from being enemies to being engaged."

Taryn blushed at this. "I didn't just want to come back to live again. I wanted to be useful. I planned to use my position in Slytherin house to spy on Draco. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way, but I'm glad it did. I really love Draco. He isn't who I thought he was, and he is the reason that I wanted to speak with you. We need your help."

Dumbledore's eyes turned to Draco as the boy pushed up the sleeve of his charcoal colored jumper, revealing the Dark Mark.

"Just after my father was sent to Azkaban I took the mark," Draco said, his hand lightly tracing the dark symbol of his servitude. He looked up, meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "I didn't take it for glory, I took it because I felt that I didn't have a choice. He threatened my mother, sir. I couldn't let anything happen to her, not if I could help it, so I agree. And I took the task he assigned me."

"And what was that," Dumbledore asked.

"I told him that I would kill you." Draco waited for a spell to hit him after the quietly uttered words, his eyes trained on the the floor in front of him, but he heard only the creak of a chair as Dumbledore shifted.

"How did you plan to kill me?"

Draco looked up. "I tried to send you a cursed necklace, but it was intercepted accidentally. I didn't want the girl to be hurt. I don't want to hurt people."

"You just want me dead then," Dumbledore interrupted.

"When it comes to the safety of my mother and Taryn, I'll do anything. Even it it meant killing you. It wasn't something that I wanted to do, but I would have done it. It wasn't my idea to come her. I'm here only because of Taryn. She thinks that you can help us," Draco said.

"And you don't?"

"I know that you had to be investigating the Katie Bell incident. I think I covered my tracks, but there wasn't a guarantee that I wouldn't be caught. For all I know you already knew all the the things I'm telling you. Also, I'm not stupid. I know that if it were to come down to a duel between you and I that I would lose, and so I tried to complete my task in another way."

"What makes you so sure that I'll help you? You freely admitted that you wanted to kill me. Why shouldn't I call for Aurors to take you?"

"I'm a Deatheater, and though I'm not in a high position like Professor Snape, I'm sure that I could be useful in similar capacity," Draco said evenly.

Taryn broke in at this. "Draco, no. You don't have to do that." She turned her attention to Dumbledore. "Please sir, tell him that he doesn't need to do that."

"But, I do," Draco said. "As much as I want to forget that I ever took the mark, it won't change that it's there. I'm small in the scheme of things, pretty much cannon fodder. Voldemort doesn't care if I die, in fact I think that he would prefer it. At least I can be helpful in some way."

"If I agree to help you, you both must swear allegiance to the Order," Dumbledore said.

"I will if you agree to two conditions," said Draco.

"What conditions?"

"One: You have to get my mother to safety. She won't go willingly, and will most likely have to be Obliviated. Two: You agree to not tell anyone who Taryn is unless it is absolutely necessary."

"What about your father?" Dumbledore asked.

"My mother isn't guilt free, but Dad is the driving force behind all of our involvement with the Dark Lord. I can't do anything for him now. He is beyond my reach," Draco said quietly.

"I agree to help you mother. She will be taken somewhere safe and given a new identity. I also agree to keep silent about the true identity of Miss Davis, though I think it is foolish."

"I don't think that Harry, Ron, and everyone else should be burdened with my situation right now," Taryn said. She didn't add that she was afraid of what their reaction would be, but judging by Dumbledore's expression she thought that he had figured that much out.

* * *

***********WARNING: THE CHASE OUTTAKE BEGINS HERE***********

* * *

**STAR**

* * *

"I don't know whats going on with you right now, but I hope that you know that you can talk to me about it," I said into Taryn's hair as I hugged her.

We were standing outside of the Hogwarts train. The atmosphere on Platform 9 ¾ was filled with holiday cheer, but the cheer was missing my friend by a long-shot.

I was only a few inches taller than she was – short for a bloke I know – and when she pulled back it was easy to look into her blue eyes. I hated the sadness that was lurking there.

"I know," she said. Her slightly husky voice was lower than usual, thick with things, emotions that she was hiding. "I just need to, I dunno, wrap my own head around it. When I get it straitened out I'll talk to you about it."

"Okay, just...the offer is there. No expiration date," I said, trying to push gaiety into my tone. "You can call me whenever you need to."

"But the holiday, I'm sure–" she began.

"I don't care about that," I interrupted. "Whenever you need to," I repeated.

She hugged me tighter, burying her face in my neck. "You're such a good friend, Chase." Her voice was muffled.

"Do you need a ride home?" I asked when she pulled away. "One of the servants will have dropped my car off, and I can take you wherever you need to go."

"Thanks, but my step-mum should be here already," she said.

"Well, I can walk you to the entrance at least, just to make sure you get there okay."

We headed through the gateway, and back into the main King's Cross station.

"Y'know," I said, "It never ceases to amaze me that Muggles never notice us just appearing from thin air or disappearing onto the platform." Of course I knew exactly why that was, but I knew that my friend couldn't help but start explaining why. I knew that it would take her mind from whatever was bothering her.

"Didn't you read Hogwarts, A History?" she began. I hid my smile as she launched into an explanation. "Cassius Tinplate, he was a past Headmaster of course, laid a ward on the platform himself in 1854. It's very similar to a see-me-not spell, and causes Muggle eyes to slide past the platform. Some Muggles, the sensitive ones – psychics and such – are able to see it, and so the spell also is embedded with a befuddlement charm that causes them to forget or thing that they were just seeing things. It was a very powerful bit of magic and really ingenious if I do say so..."

The explanation kept her busy until we were past the entrance and soon I was waving goodbye to her as she walked toward her step-mum.

I watched until the car was on the road before making my way to the car park to my own car.

"There is my baby," I sighed as I finally laid eyes on my car. The Lamborghini SE 30, was three years old – yeah, I got a car for my thirteenth birthday – but it still made other blokes drool with envy and made girls wet their kickers (too bad I didn't care about that one). It was painted a custom silver that faded into a gunmetal grey, and had chrome rims that I picked out myself. There were only 150 of these babies made, and my dad, being a Muggle and as car mad as I was, made sure that I had one. My mum, of course, had argued about the silliness of giving a very expensive racing car to a teenager. She'd gone on and on about the merits of a nice broom or Apparition, but once she realized that she was being politely ignored she'd quieted. It hadn't stopped her from buying me and equally expensive broom that she still hoped that I would use instead. Seriously though, a car beat a broom hands down. Just the heater and air conditioner kicked a broom's ass any day. Don't get me started on my stereo system.

I sighed again as I rubbed a hand over its smooth paint. I fucking loved my Lambo.

I looked around to make sure I wasn't being watched before pulling my wand out and crouching down my my front left tire.

I laid my free hand against the chilled chrome, using the other to wield my wand. "Revelare," I murmered quietly. The spell was imprinted to recognize only my own touch, voice, and wand, and wouldn't reveal itself to anyone else without my help. The chrome glowed blue for a moment, before spitting out the key to my car.

Yeah, I'm sure that I could get it to just unlock and start using my wand, but I wasn't sure how to do it myself and fuck if I was letting some other wizard screw up my baby. Also, there is something to be said for leaving things as they are and doing things the old fashioned way.

Soon I was sitting on buttery soft, black leather seats – heated of course – and turning smoothly onto the icy road.

I stopped at Mcdonald's first. I had been dying for some fries and and a Coke, before making my way home, happily munching on my salty treat and sipping my cold soda. Wizard's can be so uptight about Muggle things and it was hard as hell to get a nice Coke around the castle. Before I had gotten my room in Serpent Hall, I had frequently bribed a few of the house elves to smuggle my Muggle snacks into the school. I didn't care if the other kids in my house saw me drinking them or not. It wasn't like it would help my standing in the house at all. At the end of the day I was still a Half-blood and gay.

It still pisses me off about how many blokes in the school, and not all Slytherin mind you, that still call me names while around their friends, but try to get me to suck their cocks in private. Being a rather small bloke, I had learned defensive spell work quickly, and how to hit them where it hurt. Suffice it to say, I don't get bothered very often anymore.

I came out when I was thirteen. I'd always kind of known that I was gay. I'd always liked girls as friends. They were fun and nice to talk with, but I'd never gotten the fascination that other blokes had for boobs. It had been pretty much cemented when I actually sat down to think about why I got a stiffy when I thought about Brad Pitt.

My parents are pretty cool about the gay thing now, but it wasn't exactly smooth sailing at the beginning. People are always surprised to know that my Dad accepted it easier and far more quickly than my mother did.

Dad has always been eccentric himself, he did marry a witch after all, and it was just easier for him to accept all around. Charlie Morgenstern was just a jolly bloke. He made his first fortune owning a chain of joke shops, before branching out into toy factories. Being cheerful just kind of went with his job I guess.

Mum, Kate, had had a harder time with it. She wasn't against my being gay at all, just that it made her reevaluate her entire vision of what she hoped my life would be. It didn't take her too long to get over it, the woman had to be able to accept change after all. She married outside of Wizarding society and to my jokester of a father to boot.

We'd only had one slightly serious conversation about the subject, where she had voiced her concerns.

"Its going to be hard, sweetie," she'd said. "People won't understand. I got a lot of flack for marrying your father just because he's a Muggle. I know its not the same thing, but I understand backlash, and you will have to be prepared for that."

"I know Mum, and I'm ready for it. I'd rather deal with backlash than pretend to be something I'm not forever," I'd said in reply.

She had smiled softly and kissed my temple. "You are going to take the world by storm someday, sweetie. I wish I was half as brave as you are now when I was thirteen."

After that discussion she was cool about it. Almost a little _too_ cool. Mum tends to take things into overdrive. Soon she was joining the wizarding equivalent of PFLAG and trying to get me to join pride parades. It was after a few weeks of her reading "How To Talk With Your LGBT Child" literature, and a really embarrassing sex discussion, that I'd finally convinced her that I believed that she was okay with it and that it was equally okay just to be normal about it.

She'd even been okay when I brought my first serious boyfriend home for a visit. His name had been Brian Hayes, and he'd been a Hufflepuff. He'd had gorgeous green eyes, and curly – not as curly as mine – brown hair that I had loved running my fingers through. He'd also been the first guy I'd ever had sex with. Brian had been a nice guy, but after a few months of dating I knew that we weren't going to last. He had been pretty content with keeping our relationship under wraps and never acknowledged it publicly. I had been out by then of course, and he knew that if we were seen together too much that it would would be scrutiny. He'd been a seventh year at the time and reluctant to end his Hogwarts years with what he called a "scandal". For awhile I had been fine with it, but after a while it had began to grate. I wasn't one for pushing people out of the closet when they weren't ready – there are quite a few blokes that I could out (No, I won't say names) – but I knew that we could never have anything lasting if he wanted to stay there. So we had broken up. It hadn't been a bitter break up. I'd liked him loads, but I hadn't been in love or anything. We were still friends actually, and still sent each other the occasional letter by owl. After that I promised myself that I wouldn't get in a relationship with someone still in the closet ever again, which is actually pretty hard when you are a teenager and still in school, especially Wizarding school.

That, of course, was before Oliver Wood dropped from the sky and into my life. I'd broken my promise so fast, and it if was a person it would have been suing me for whiplash.

I'd noticed him before, of course. My Uncle Silas (on my mother's side) was friends with Ulysses Quartermaine, who was part owner of Puddlemere United. Because of that, and the fact that my Uncle owned permanent box in the stadium, I seen him lots of times, but it was only at the beginning of last summer that I noticed just how bloody beautiful he actually was.

I've been told that I'm handsome – I've got my mother's natural golden streaked, brown curls and my dad's hazel eyes – but I know that I'm really more cute, almost pretty, than anything. Call me a twink and I'll punch you in the face or hex your ass to hell. Oliver though, he was on a whole different level, as least to me. He had smooth, shiny brown hair that he kept cut short, and earnest, kind chocolate brown eyes that warmed whenever he looked at me. His body was nice too, with muscles cut to hardness by his sport. He was taller than me, most people are, but he never made me feel intimidated by it. His Scottish accent could make my toes curl in my shoes like the witch in The Wizard of Oz, only not gross and deadish.

I remembered him from school because he had been the Gryffindor quidditch captain when he was in his fifth year. I was always interested in quidditch. I never tried out though, fuck if I would give anyone a sanctioned reason to hit me with anything. Also I was too small for anything but a Seeker, and I'd never had the desire to try out anyway. I was strictly an interested observer.

We spoke for the first time during a dinner that was held at Quartermaine's house shortly after the end of the last school year.

My Uncle, once he'd found out that I was an avid quidditch fan, usually brought me with him to anything quiddich related when I wasn't in school. His wife, my Aunt Alice, or his daughter Julie weren't interested in the least in anything sport related, so he had been pretty much overjoyed when he found a like minded individual in me.

Quartermaine had a huge mansion in River Piddle, Dorset (the hometown for Puddlemere United) where he frequently had dinner's with all the players and any combination of their friends or his in attendance.

I'd only been over there once before, and it had been a smaller affair, with mostly Quartermaine's and his wife's personal friends, so I hadn't really gotten to meet many of the players in a more personal setting.

Anyway, I really didn't get to speak with Ollie during dinner that night. He'd been seated a ways down the table , and I hadn't wanted to shout down Quartermaine's ridiculously long table interrupting the amiable dinnertime conversation just to be heard, but I'd sent many hot looks his way. I'd been charmed by the way his cheeks had blushed and the slightly bashful, yet interested looks he'd sent back when he thought no one else was looking.

It was only later, while the "adults" had their after dinner drinks that we actually got to speak. I'd been having an animated dispute with Astrid Finley, Puddlemere's seeker, over who was the most influential Seeker in quidditch history, when I felt a presence behind me.

"I'd have to say that the best seeker is Mukai Hiro, from Japanese National hands down. I don't think he failed to catch the snitch during the whole quidditch season in 1970," a soft Scottish brogue said behind me.

I'd stiffened my spine to stop the delicious shiver that ran down my spine from being visible at the sound of his melted chocolate voice. I'd turned to see him smiling at me, with those pearly white perfect teeth.

"See," Astrid had said, slapping a hand on my chest, "I told you that it was Hiro. He is the best seeker there ever was."

I'd had to clear my throat before speaking. "I'd agree on Hiro being the best, but we were talking about the most influential. Sable Porttree, from Australian National changed the face of the game when she caught the snitch with her feet while in a handstand. It was probably the most awesome move ever attempted. It was reflexes and strength. People still have posters of the Porttree on their walls."

"It was a luck move that only the most foolhardy and attention seeking seekers attempt. She was just trying to be cute with that gymnast act and she got lucky," Astrid had said, blowing off the statement.

"Gymnastics is bloody hard," I'd argued, "It takes a lot of dedication and hard work."

"You sound like you do it or something," Astrid had said.

"Actually I have," I'd admitted, "but not really anymore. I'm more interested in Yoga and its principles at the moment."

"Yoga?" Ollie had asked with interest.

"Yes, its really relaxing when you want it to be, or it can be a rigorous workout when you need it to be. And its really good for flexibility," I'd said in a slightly flirtatious tone.

Astrid had smirked at me a bit, before glancing at Ollie and making her way to a different group with a murmured excuse.

I'd been grateful for her quick departure before I noticed the slightly alarmed look on Oliver's face.

"Are you okay?" I'd asked, confused about his expression.

"I'm great," he'd coughed before launching into a similar discussion about quidditch.

We had talked for awhile before we realized that we hadn't even really introduced ourselves.

"I'm Oliver Wood," he'd said in amused embarrassment when we'd realized our predicament.

"I know who you are," I'd said with a giggle. "I remember you from school."

"You went to Hogwarts?" He'd asked.

I'd loved that right away he hadn't assumed that I was underage, even though I still was. People always thought I was younger because of my height and slim build, and I hated it. "I'm still going there actually. M'name is Chase Morgenstern by the way."

"Still going? What year are you?" He'd asked.

I'd seen the horror building in his eyes as he tried to guess my age., so I cut the poor boy some slack. "I just finished my fifth year, and my birthday was last week. I'm sixteen."

He'd visibly relaxed. I _was _underage, but not grossly so, and I could see that the admission had calmed him. Of course, I ruined it with my next statement.

"So are you going to ask me out, or was all of the flirting and eye-shagging for nothing," I'd said with a grin.

When he stiffened and threw a look around to see if anyone else had heard me, the tumblers fell into place. Shit, I'd cursed myself, he wasn't out.

"I'm sorry," I'd said, quiet enough for only his ears, "I didn't realize that you weren't out, so I apologize."

By then, thankfully, my Uncle came up to me to tell me that it was time for us to leave. Throwing one regretful look back and Oliver, I'd left that night, fully expecting to never hear from him again.

Imagine my surprise when he called me a week later on my adspectus mirror. I was sure that I'd never hear from him again. I could tell that he'd liked me, but I'd been sure that he was more attached to keeping his orientation undercover than dating me. He was hidden and I was most certainly not, so I was shocked to see his smiling face when I answered the chime from my mirror. He'd gotten my sigil from my Uncle, and wanted to apologize about the way we parted, and to invite me out to lunch.

I'd been hesitant to accept, I really didn't want to get into another relationship with someone who wasn't out, but there had been something about Ollie that just...drew me like a moth to flame, so I'd ignored it. Pushed down my feelings, and basked in the flush of attraction.

I wasn't really surprised when he took me out in muggle London for our first date. I'd doubted that he would be recognized by anyone in a bookstore/cafe and I was right. We ate delicious grilled panini sandwiches, and afterward we walked around and talked, sipping mixed coffee drinks as we looked at books and generally acted like any couple would on a first date.

"Y'know, your last name means morning star," he'd said as we walked through the science section of the bookstore.

"I've read that," I'd said in reply. My last name wasn't a common one like Jones or Smith, and so I'd researched it before when I was younger out of curiosity. "How did you know that?" I'd asked him.

"I like research, and I like names," he'd said with a blush. "Well, I like to know name meanings. My name comes from olive tree, which I thought was funny as a kid since my last name is wood. Chase is a different name though, especially among wizards." He picked up a book about the planet Venus, absently flipping through its full color pages.

"It's a nickname actually. My full name is Charles Wentworth Morgenstern, the third," I'd said with a grimace. "The nicknames for Charles are just...ugh. My grandpa is Chuck, my dad is Charlie. They wanted to call me Chas, but I refused to answer to it. Eventually, I added an E to it, and once all of my friends started calling me Chase it just stuck."

"I like it. Its different, and it fits you, though I kind of want to call you Star."

"Star? Its kind of...girly," I'd hesitantly said.

"Not really. The sun is a star y'know, and its vastly important. The sun's energy is the chief source of energy for all surface activity and life on Earth. It makes it possible for our planet to host an immense diversity of life forms..." his voice had gone almost breathless and passionate, and his face was animated, and God...I just wanted to see him like that forever.

It had made a smile break across my face at his enthusiasm. "You really are a geek in jock's clothing."

That blush that I grew to love – one that he still hadn't lost – heated his face once more. "I like learning, and I just wanted you to know that my calling you Star is the furthest thing from girly. The sun is a star and it's badass."

"Fine, you can call me Star as long as I can call you Ollie," I'd said, reaching out to hold his hand, lacing our fingers together.

"Deal," he'd said in reply.

We kept our hands clasped as we walked from store to store, window shopping mostly, but strolling through the aisles of stores that interested us.

He kissed me for the first time in a craft store, right next to a display of glue guns and those multicolored pipe cleaners that only primary school children (or their teachers) thought were worth buying.

Ollie was pretty shy most of the time, but the bloke knew what to do with his lips. When he kissed me it was like that American holiday Fourth of July. I thought fireworks were going off behind my eyes. I think my knees even went a little weak.

I knew an embarrassing whimper escaped my mouth when he brushed his lips ever so gently against mine. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and I could taste the sweet caramel from the coffee he'd drank earlier on his tongue.

I'd laced my fingers behind his neck, sliding them up to trail in his silky hair, and he pulled me tighter against him kiss me more firmly.

I'd looked into his eyes when we finally drew apart, and shivered at the heat that kindled there. I'd known then that I was in deep trouble.

Numerous dates, and more blisteringly hot make out sessions followed. We went on all the normal dates: the movies, bowling (which I was horrible at), the science museum (his favorite), and hiking in Scotland.

Our second date, hiking in Scotland was my favorite. Ollie had gone hiking often as a child with his father, and I was pretty athletic myself, so the walk from Dalmally to the ruins of Kilchurn Castle was fairly easy.

There weren't any facilities, cafes, or gift shops to ruin the quiet majesty of the area. The ruins were lovely and the view of Loch Awe was beautiful. I could easily imagine the castle's past use, and it was nice that it wasn't an overcrowded tourist destination. That also added the added effect of putting Ollie at ease, and I could see his cares drain away. In that moment, breathing in the fresh air, I felt like we were the only two people in the world.

After we shared a simple meal he'd packed – sandwiches, fruit, and water – we'd explored the ruins further, running our hands along smooth rock, the clomp of our boots against stone.

"I like it here," I'd said. "Its nice."

"Its one of my favorite places to hike, even though its not very strenuous. Not many people come here, and its quiet. You can think here," he'd said in reply.

"I like how you are here too," I'd said quietly, lowering my face as I kicked at a dirt clod. "I can see how tense you get when we're in public places."

"Star," he'd began, tipping up my chin with a finger so he could look into my eyes. "It's not you. I'm not ashamed of you or anything like that. I'm ashamed of myself to tell the truth. Of how cowardly I'm being. If you don't want to...continue...I'll understand. You shouldn't have to hide just because I'm too scared to let anyone know who I am. I just...I mean...I love my job. Quidditch is all I know, and I'm scared as fuck of what will happen if I let anyone know. I don't think that they'd accept me."

I'd wanted to be selfish, and tell him that he had to tell everyone about us, but as scared as he was to come out, I was just as scared to lose him, and he was partially right. Quidditch wasn't the most accepting sport for anyone who wasn't strictly hetero, and I knew that he would suffer backlash if he decided to come out. We hadn't known each other long, and I didn't want to force him into doing something that he wasn't ready for. It had to be when he decided, not just because it was one of my requirements. I knew, eventually, that it would be something that he had to do if he wanted us to be something serious. I refused to hide forever. I had to be honest with him.

"We're both young, Ollie. I want to say that I will wait forever for you, but I won't lie to you. So I'll say that I'll wait for now, because I like you so much and I think that you are worth the wait," I'd said instead, pushing down just a hint of bitterness.

The hint faded away when he smiled. That perfect, blinding smile that still never failed to make me love him just a little more each time it appeared.

He'd cupped my jaw, and brushed his lips against mine, kissing me intensely. Once again I pushed away my worries as he kissed me, my back pressed against sun-warmed stone.

*.*.*

We'd been dating for almost a month before we finally had sex. There had been a lot of heavy petting but nothing further than that. I vividly remembered that night.

He invited me over to his his flat for dinner. Ollie's flat was tiny, pretty much two rooms. A living room/kitchen combo, and a bedroom that branched off to a bathroom, but he was proud of it.

I just liked the fact that we could have privacy there. No worry of nosy eyes on us, or the threat of my parents bursting into the room.

Ollie couldn't cook worth a damn, but he could order in like a champ, so we had mushroom ravioli, salad and bread. I didn't often drink wine, but I liked the Dolcetto that he'd paired with dinner. It was a dark red wine that tasted like black cherry, raspberries, chocolate cherry and a hint of bitter almond.

I don't think that Ollie knew that I planned to seduce him that night, but I think he got the picture when I kept rubbing my foot against his leg under the table.

I knew that he was surprised when I suggested that we go to the couch to watch telly for awhile. He was nervous, and though the wine had loosened him up a bit, I didn't want him to be tense for what I had in mind.

We watched a movie for awhile, to this day I can't remember what movie it was exactly, before I made my move. Raising to my knees, I straddled his waist, and pressed my lips against his. I rocked against him, and licked his plump bottom lip before pulling back slightly. "I want you," I said.

"Star, are you sure that..." he began.

"I'm sure. I've wanted to for awhile." I kissed his neck, smelling a hint of whatever fragrance he'd used earlier against his warm skin. I opened the buttons on his shirt one by one, revealing golden tanned skin and hard muscles, before bending down to run my tongue over one of his nipples.

He'd groaned and and bucked slightly against me, one hand raising to run through my curls.

I laid open mouth kisses against his chest moving to the other nipple, which got equal treatment, my other hand rubbing in circle against the abandoned nipple.

Shifting back a bit, I ran my hand down the firm muscles of his stomach, before pausing at button of his jeans. When he didn't offer any protests, pulled his jeans open, pushing my hand inside and past his boxers to wrap a hand around his cock. I rubbed my thumb across the head, and thrilled at the sexy moan that escaped his lips.

I let go of him reluctantly before shifting back further, and going down onto my knees in front of him. I wanted more, and I hoped that he wouldn't stop me from giving it to him.

Pulling a bit on his hips, and scooting closer put me in the perfect position. He looked down at me with eyes slitted with desire as I pulled down his boxers to free him.

Grasping him firmly once more, leaned down to run my mouth on just the head of his cock, laving my tongue against the salt flavored skin.

"Fuck," he gasped, drawing in a hitching breath as my mouth went down further on him.

He was pretty big, not overwhelming, but definitely more than Brian had been blessed with, so I took as much as I could, and jacked what I couldn't. I wanted to blow his fucking mind, and the sexy sounds that he was making led me to believe that I was succeeding.

"Shit, Star, If you don't stop I'll come," he warned, that Scottish brogue rough with passion.

I eased away, because as much as I liked sucking him, I wanted him to fuck me more.

When I gained my feet, he grabbed my hand, leading me to his bedroom. I walked past him pulling of my shirt, and toeing off my shoes and socks before I looked back at him.

He was hesitating in the doorway.

"Ollie," I said gently, "We don't have to do this today if you don't want to."

He moved into the room. "Its not that I don't want to just...I haven't done much beyond kissing with a bloke. I don't want to fuck this up."

I pushed down my surprise. With the way his kissed I wouldn't have guessed that... "Are you a virgin Ollie?" I asked carefully.

"No. I've been with girls, just never with another bloke. Not all the way at least. Blowjobs, and handjobs, yeah, but I've never fucked a guy or been fucked by one."

"We don't have to do that, y'know. Not every gay bloke does anal," I said.

He blushed. "Have you?"

I fidgeted. "Well, yes. I've had one serious boyfriend, Brian, and we did."

"Did you top or bottom," he asked.

"Look at you with the lingo," I said in amusement, grinning when he blushed deeper. "And to answer your question, both, but I mostly topped."

"Really?" he said with interest.

I rolled my eyes. "I know, most people don't think that by looking at me, but yeah."

He looked uncomfortable for a second. "I think I want to try it, but maybe not..." he trailed off.

"You don't want to bottom first?" I guessed. I'd figured that he wouldn't want to, at least not yet. Honestly, I'd always assumed that when we got to this point that I'd be bottoming anyway. I really didn't have a problem with it. I liked it both ways. "Its okay if you don't want to."

"Really? But its not really fair," he started.

"Its not about fair," I interrupted. "Its about what makes you feel good. I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do. It's fine," I stressed, "Come here."

He crossed the room, and I pulled the unbuttoned shirt from his body, laying a warm kiss against his shoulder.

We quietly undressed each other, and soon we were on the bed, kissing hotly once more.

I reclined against the soft pillows on his bed as he ran his big, quidditch calloused hands over my body. His fingers plucked at my nipples, turning them in to flushed hard pinpoints of sensation, and his mouth crashed against mine once more, before kissing down my body.

His hand drifted down to fist my cock, stroking it, before taking it in his mouth. I think my fucking eyes crossed as he started lashing his tongue on the head, teasing me, pulling breathy little moans from my throat. I raised my head a little, to see his brown eyes train on me for an electric second, before they drifted close as he began to suck.

I pushed my fingers through his silky hair, moaning incoherently. My back arched from the bed. God, his fucking hands drove me crazy. "Nnngh, shit, Ollie. Fuck me."

He hesitated for a moment, letting me gently slide from his mouth, before reaching over to his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube.

I rolled over onto my side, turning my head to glance at him. "For a guy that says he hasn't done this before, you sure seem to know what you're doing," I joked.

He chuckled. "I told you I like to research." Setting the bottle beside us on the bed, he settled behind me and started laying warm kisses against my back, his trailing down to lightly pinch my ass.

I heard the snick of the bottle opening, and then his hands were on me. The coolness of lube against my skin. I wasn't surprised to hear him murmur a spell to get me ready – it was nice to be a wizard – before the blunt head of his cock was pushing inside of me.

I bit my lip, and wriggled just a bit as I got used to the feel of him. His hands moved down to my hips, firmly gripping the skin there.

A low, gasping groan escaped my lips, as he pulled out slowly, rocking back into me, building a rhythm and totally fucking hitting the spot. "Fuck, Ollie...right there." I reached down to grab my cock, pulling at it in time with his thrusts, moaning as the sensation ramped higher.

"Star, you fuckin' feel so good," his voice growled. And there it was. That fucking brogue that drove me crazy.

His movements grew faster and I could feel every inch of him, sliding in, pulling out. I turned my head into th pillow, biting the edge as I tried to muffle my shouts of pleasure.

"Oh, God, please...Ollie...Unghh," He leaned into me, his teeth grazing my shoulder, and that was it. I came hard, squeezing his length, pushing him over as he came as well, groaning harshly in pleasured bliss.

"I love you Star," he said, whispering into my hair.

"I love you too."

* * *

0o0

* * *

My house was on Chesterfield Street, in Mayfair, not far from Berkeley Square and Green Park. Named Morgenstern Place, the house had been bought by my parents shortly after they were married. My father had been willing to move into a wizarding neighborhood, but my mother would have none of that. She'd wanted my father to be comfortable wherever they lived and knew, even though he said the opposite, that he wouldn't ever be at ease in a place were he was in the minority.

Morgenstern Place was arranged over six floors, and had two reception rooms, a modern kitchen, study, five bedrooms (three with contemporary en suite bathrooms and dressing rooms), bathroom, guest cloakroom, two roof terraces and patio.

The master bedroom, my parents room, was located on the first floor, under which was the ground floor (entrance hall, reception room, and terrace), and the lower ground floor (second reception room, kitchen, and guest cloakroom and bathroom).

I pulled the Lambo into my parking place in front of the house, making sure to lock it, before hopping out to go inside.

There was a cheery wreath, Frosty the Snowman inspired, on the door that I knew was made by my mother. Kate Morgenstern was one crafty woman, and she loved to spot our house with DIY projects. She'd kept every single horribly constructed monstrosity that I'd made in primary school, and brought each one out proudly on their proper holidays.

They were sitting in the ground floor reception room watching telly when I walked through the door.

My mum immediately jumped from the couch, hugged me tightly, and smacked kisses against my cheeks.

"You've grown so skinny. What have they been feeding you at that school?" she asked predictably. My mum was always concerned that I wasn't been fed enough, and if I wasn't such an avid yoga practitioner, and believer in fitness I'd be as fat as the Christmas ham I knew my mother would be baking for the holiday. The fact was it wasn't Hogwarts food that had me looking wan, it was more the Ollie situation that was keeping the pounds down.

"He looks fine, if a bit pale," Dad said, climbing up from his place on the couch. He hugged me just as tightly, before letting me loose once more.

"I'm just cold," I said.

"Well, maybe if you took the time to put on a coat you wouldn't be chilled to the bone. You'll catch your death of cold if you don't learn to bundle up properly," Mum admonished.

"Are Uncle Silas, Aunt Alice, and Julie still coming here for Christmas?" I asked, hopefully turning my mother's concern elsewhere. I swear, the woman could still make me feel like a five year old, and I suspected that she always would have the ability.

"No, they actually decided to go to Jamaica for the holiday. Can you imagine? Christmas isn't Christmas without snow, in my opinion," Mum answered. "Is Ollie still coming?"

My parents were actually pretty cool about my boyfriend. They liked Ollie a lot once they'd met him. They didn't like that he was older, of course, but they also knew that there wasn't much they could do about it. I'd be seventeen in February and I'd be an adult then, and they also knew that the most surefire way to get me to do something was to say that I couldn't do it. Yes, my parents were smart people.

"He was supposed to come and spend Christmas Eve with us, but instead I think that we are going to spend New Year's Eve together," I said glumly.

"Why the change of plans?" Dad asked.

"His father got engaged a week ago to his longtime girlfriend, Diana, and he wanted them to spend Christmas together as a family."

"Have you met the fiancee yet?" Mom asked.

I snorted. "I haven't even met his father, let alone the fiancee."

I didn't like the fleeting look of pity that graced my mother's face. Fortunately the look quickly turned into indignation of my behalf. "I'm not trying to get into your business, but I don't like the fact that he is keeping you a secret. Is he ashamed of you or something, because if that is the case you can do so much better. I like Ollie, but you should drop him like a hot coal if he doesn't learn to appreciate you."

"He's not ashamed of me, Mum. I think he's ashamed of himself," I said quietly. Even as I defended my boyfriend a small part of me felt like maybe she had a point. We had been dating for six months and he still hadn't introduced me to his father, and I rarely got to see his friends, although they all knew I existed.

I would have to speak about it with him soon. I was just...there was something about Ollie that made me feel at peace. He was such an interesting person. He was fun, witty, freaking fantastic in bed, but also kind and compassionate.

I guess the real reason why I gave him so much slack, other than the fact that I loved him, was that I knew that it was fear that hindered him. Ollie was an only child, and his mother had died when he was five. He and his father had only had each other, and they were really close. I knew that he was afraid that if he came out that it would all change, and I felt for him, really I did, but I knew that I was getting to my point.

I didn't want to be ultimatum boy, but I was starting to think that there wasn't going to be any other way to get through to him.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Ollie and I had decided to exchange Christmas gifts on New Year's day.

My gift was two part. I'd gotten him a book on names, which was actually harder than you would think. Most name books are _baby_ name books, and I didn't want to put any frightening ideas in his head by gifting him with one of those. I liked kids, and I'd probably adopt at some point, but not until way, _way_ into the future. Keeping with the name thing, I'd also gotten him a black leather and silver engraved bracelet, etched with his name. It was perfect. Not too showy, but still thoughtful and personal.

We'd both gotten invited to several New Year's eve parties, but we'd decided that we would have dinner together in his flat together instead.

I could smell the scent of delicious food as I neared his door. I barely tapped the wood before the door was thrown open, and I was pulled into strong arms.

"I missed you, Star," he said when he finally pulled back.

"I missed you too," I said with a laugh. I pulled off my coat, hanging it on the coat rack next to the door, and dropping my bag on the floor next to it. "It smells really good in here, so I know you didn't cook," I joked.

"And since there is an absence of smoke and firefighters you'd be correct," he quipped.

Soon we were sitting down to a nice meal of artichokes with roasted-pepper dip, bitter greens with tarragon, vinaigrette and pine nuts, veal medallions with apple-thyme sauce and mashed sweet potatoes with marsala, accompanying it with a nice Brunello.

I leaned back in my chair with a sigh after eating. "Ollie you really outdid yourself this time. I'm so full, you might have to roll me out of the room like that girl in Willy Wonka."

I laughed at his look of confusion. I'd been working on his film education, (I'd gotten him one of those magical suppressors for the telly) but I obviously needed to introduce him to more Muggle films. "Nevermind," I said as he continued to look at me in puzzlement.

We sat down to watch telly for awhile, kissing at midnight, and despite my best intentions I couldn't keep my eyes open long after that.

"I'm sorry, Ollie," I said yawning. "I really intended to ravish you."

He chucked, as he let me to the bed. "We have all day tomorrow, no rush."

Stripping down to my boxers, I scurried under the covers, and was asleep soon after.

*.*.*

I stretched with a contented moan the next morning, turning to see him looking at me. "Good morning," I yawned, making sure to keep my hand over my mouth.

I reached for my wand, murmuring a quick breath freshening spell. Yeah, I fucking loved being a wizard. It made life so much easier.

"Good morning," he said with a smile. "You look happy."

"I am happy," I said, before bouncing out of bed. "Present time," I yelled, racing for my bag in the living room.

"You're acting like a little kid," he called after me.

"Shut up," I said, returning to the room with two wrapped gifts. "You aren't _that_ much older than me."

I thrust the gifts at him. "Open it, open it!" I loved giving gifts. I had so much more fun looking for just the perfect gift for someone, but I usually couldn't wait for the occasion to give it to the person it was intended for. Ollie probably would have been opening his gift the day I came back from school if I'd seen him then.

I watched a smile play over his lips as he pulled the silly Santa themed wrapping paper away to reveal the book. "Thanks, this is perfect Star."

"Open the other one," I ordered.

Pulling the paper away, revealed the leather case for my second gift. Opening it he pulled out the bracelet, and I immediately helped him to put it on.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," he said quietly, looking at me from under the fringe of his slightly longer hair.

"Your turn," he said, climbing across his bed to open his nightstand.

He brought out a small wooden box with my name carved into it. "Great minds think alike I guess," he said as I opened the box.

Inside was necklace with a Celtic sun pendant suspended from a silver chain. The pendant was circle with a diamond studded sun in the center. It looked antique and beautiful, yet still fully masculine.

"Wow, Ollie. This is great," I said smiling at him, as I dropped the necklace over my head. It rested slightly above mid chest, and I loved it.

"That's actually not the only thing, but the other thing can't be wrapped," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.

His eyes met mine. "Y'know why I canceled on Christmas?"

"Yeah. You said your dad wanted you to have dinner with him and Diana."

"That's true, we did have dinner, but that isn't all that happened."

"What else happened."

He grabbed my hand. "I told my father about us."

I froze. That was not at all what I was expecting him to say. "And how did he take it?" I asked carefully.

"He wasn't exactly happy, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Ollie said quietly. "He needs some time, but he'll want to met you at some point. Would you come and meet him?"

"Of course," I said quickly. It was all I'd wanted from almost the first moment I met him. "Whenever he's ready, I'll go and see him with you. Even if I'm at school."

I reached over to hug him. "I'm so glad that you did this."

"I knew it was something that you wanted," Ollie said.

I drew back. "You didn't do it just because_ I_ wanted it right? You were ready to tell him weren't you?" I guess I hadn't been hiding what I'd wanted very well after all.

"No, it wasn't just because of you. I did it as much for me as I did for you, because I want you to know that you mean something. You told your parents a long time ago, and I was kind of ashamed that I didn't have the balls to do the same thing. I was tired of being a coward, and I didn't want to lose you because of it."

I jumped on him, kissing, and didn't let him get another word out for a very long time.

* * *

0o0

* * *

As much as I wanted to see my best friend, Taryn, and find out what had happened to her before the holiday break, I didn't want to go back to school.

I was also slightly disappointed as I walked through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾ because I didn't get to see Ollie before I left.

He'd had to leave early that morning for meetings, followed by practice, and wasn't sure if he'd be able to my house before I left.

Sighing, I stood outside the train, waiting in line to board, when a hand dropped on my shoulder.

I turned to see Ollie smiling at me. Looking down, I noticed that he was still wearing his mud caked quidditch uniform.

Looking around, I could see everyone watching us with interest.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?" I said in astonishment.

"I came to kiss my boyfriend goodbye," he said with a grin.

Gasps from the crowd followed his statement, but I didn't care.

I was kissing the man I loved, and if they didn't like it they could all suck it.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

* * *

"Did Dumbledore tell you where he was sending your mum?" Taryn asked.

They were sitting in their living room studying for the N.E.W.T exam. Books were stacked in tottering piles across the coffee table, along with a bowl of guacamole and a bag of tortilla chips.

Draco coughed, reaching over to take a sip of his tea to soothe his throat. "No, I asked them not to. I'm decent at Occumency, but I probably wouldn't be able to last if Voldemort put real effort into it and I don't want to chance him discovering where she is if he breaks me."

Narcissa, living up to Draco's statement, had acted like a harpy when members of the Order had arrived to take her into protection. Several had been hit with a few nasty, but not lethal spells when they had tried to force her to leave the manor. She'd finally had to be Obliviated before she left peaceably. It didn't sit right with Draco that he didn't know where his mother was living, but he knew that it was for the best

"I guess it's better that we don't know," Taryn said.

It had been several weeks since the fight with Serrano, nearing toward March, and Draco was on edge. Voldemort hadn't called to talk to him about the fight, or even about his engagement, and he was tired of waiting for the shoe to drop.

He laughed at himself. It was almost as if he was excited about the prospect of being Crucio'd into insanity, which is what would probably happen if Voldemort found out that he'd switched sides, that is if the man didn't kill him outright.

Serrano's family had attempted to have him brought up on assault charges for the fight, but after they met with the team of barrister's that the Malfoy family employed, they'd decided to settle outside of court for a tidy sum instead of taking them on in court. Soon after that Felix left school. Draco had heard that the other boy was attending Durmstrang, or that was the rumor at least.

Draco went into a spate of coughing, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders.

"I wish you would just go to the infirmary," Taryn said in exasperation. Draco had been sick for the past two weeks, and the coughing, low grade fever, and chills were starting to worry her.

"No, I'll get over it. I never stay sick for long and the potion you gave me helps," Draco said, trying his best to assure her, despite the hoarseness of his voice. It was true. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd ever been truly sick in his life. It usually blew over in a day, or sometimes even the same night. Fleeting but intense.

Taryn frowned, far from placated. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter that the canceled the next Hogsmeade trip. I really don't think that you need to be out in the cold air anyway. Especially since you are being stubborn about going to get that cold taken care of."

The Katie Bell Incident had ruined trips to the small village for the foreseeable future. The girl still wasn't back from St. Mungo's and Draco felt horribly guilty. He'd sent money, anonymously of course, to help pay for her care, and it had helped to assuage the guilt slightly.

It wasn't just Draco that was on edge. The whole of Wizarding society was uneasy, as evidenced by the troubling articles that appeared within the Daily Prophet. Several people, many of them relatives of students of Hogwarts, had disappeared without a trace. There was a running list of names in the newspaper, and Diagon Alley was littered with fliers from desperate people simply trying to locate their loved ones.

Taryn, Draco, and Chase had had to suffer through three more Apparition lessons before Twycross had agreed to sign the waivers permitting them to take the examination early. Even so, they had to wait at least a month or more before the could schedule a time to take the test. Apparently the waiting list was rather long.

Taryn sighed, tapping her quill against her parchment.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

She eyed him uncertainly. "I'm not sure if I should tell you. If you would take it well."

Taryn was proud of Draco. He hadn't lost his temper as badly as he had with Felix since the fight, but she didn't want to push him. She wasn't afraid for herself, she knew that he wouldn't hurt her, but he was unpredictable at the moment.

"Baby, I can handle it. You can tell me anything. I hope you know that," Draco said. He hated that she now hesitated in telling him things. Though it had felt imperative at the time that he should _demolish _Serrano, he regretted his actions more and more each day. He didn't want to lose Taryn because he couldn't control himself. He felt sure that he could handle words, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to restrain himself if someone tried anything with her, and it troubled him deeply. He'd nearly pounded all of the sand out of his heavy bag the other day, trying his best to get rid himself of the over flow of aggression that he felt nearly everyday. Thankfully Taryn hadn't been around to see the mess before he was able to get rid of the evidence. He didn't want her to get hurt in any way. He'd send her away from him if he thought that she would go. He was selfish, but not when it came to her safety. The only reason that he hadn't was that he was sure, down to his bones, that he himself wouldn't do _anything_ to hurt her. He felt sure that even if he was lost in some sort of primal fury that her voice would be the only thing that would bring him back, but still he made sure to drive himself to exhaustion each day just in case. Not that it was hard. Training and the cold that was lingering within him made him almost collapse into his bed at the end of each day.

Taryn bit her lip. "It's just...It's Ron's birthday today, and I'm just sad that I can't be there," she said quietly, "Harry and Ron...they're still my friends, even though they don't know it, and sometimes I just wish that I still had that. I think my reasons for maintaining my distance are valid, but it's hard. I just wish I could go up to him and just say happy birthday, and not have it be strange."

Draco absorbed that. "You could always send him a card I guess."

Taryn smiled a bit, her eyes following her fingers as she picked at the blanket in her lap. "I did send him one. It will probably get mixed up in all the other well wishers, but I feel better knowing that I did." She turned to look at him. "I'd feel even better if you would go see Madame Pomfrey. The potion I gave you is decent but it isn't meant to be taken this long. Please? I'll even go with you, and when we come back I'll make you some soup."

"Fine," Draco sighed.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The hospital wing was dim, the windows curtained for the night with only the lamps lit to push back the darkness.

At first Taryn thought that the wing was empty until she noticed the curtained bed at the rear, and the low voices.

"… and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so … keep taking essence of rue …"

Taryn recognized Harry's voice immediately.

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," George or Fred's recognizable voice replied. She wouldn't be able to tell which twin it was unless she walked across the room to pull back the opaque curtain. She was just starting to do so, when Draco's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Don't," he whispered. "They wouldn't understand why you care, nor do I think either of us would be welcome."

Taryn nodded sadly. "It must be Ron or Ginny. Why else would Fred and George be here?" She whispered back. "I just want to know who it is."

"Okay. You stay here then while I go find Madame Pomfrey," Draco said quietly, before heading to the nurse's office.

Taryn quietly sat down in an empty chair next to one of the vacant beds and listened.

"We were lucky that there was one in the room," Harry was saying.

"Do Mum and Dad know?" Fred/George asked.

"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago — they're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon. …" Ginny's voice answered.

It was Ron then. Taryn wanted immediately to cross the room and see that he was okay for herself. She gripped the arms of her chair in an effort to push back the urge.

"So the poison was in the drink?" said Fred/George asked quietly.

"Yes," said Harry, "Slughorn poured it out —"

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?"

"Probably," said Harry, "but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?"

"No idea," said the voice that Taryn was beginning to think was Fred's. "You don't think he could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?"

"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" asked Ginny.

"I dunno," said Fred, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to poison Harry, mustn't there? 'The Chosen One' and all that?"

"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater?" said Ginny.

"Anything's possible," said Fred darkly.

"He could be under the Imperius Curse," said George.

"Or he could be innocent," said Ginny. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?"

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," said Harry. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny said. "So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Harry. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself. I just wonder where he got it."

"Er-my-nee," Ron's choked voice croaked.

Taryn started a bit at Ron's use of her name. She sniffed sadly. It hadn't been long since her death, but she'd hoped that Ron was moving on. She had seen him about the castle with Lavender, and she had been glad for it. Even if she were able to someday tell him about herself, or to be his friend once more, any romantic prospects were definitely out. It seemed that he _hadn't_ moved on after all.

The dormitory doors flew open, making them her jump and Hagrid came striding across the room, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a crossbow in his hand, tracking large muddy footprints across the previously pristine floor.

He didn't seem to notice her in his haste to get to Ron's bedside.

Taryn stood, quietly making her way over to the open doorway.

"No more than six visitors at a time!" Madam Pomfrey said, hurrying out of her office, Draco behind her.

Taryn motioned toward Draco, indicating that they should hurry from the room before they were noticed.

"What did she give you?" she asked as they made their way back to their rooms.

Draco snorted, holding up a brown paper sack. "The same thing that you've been giving me, just a stronger mixture. She told me to drink plenty of fluids and to make sure that I rested. She said that if it doesn't go away, or worsens in the next few days that I should come back."

"So it was a cold after all?"

"Not exactly," Draco said. "It has all of the symptoms of a cold, but after she examined me, she concluded that it wasn't infectious. I could kiss you now if I wanted," he said, ruining the joke in the next moment when he sneezed.

"I think I'll pass," Taryn said wryly, before turning serious. "I heard some things after you left. I'll tell you once we get to the room."

She relayed what she had heard as she prepared a pot of chicken noodle soup. Draco was a much better cook than she was, but she knew how to make a mean soup. She'd had to learn since she hated the canned varietly. She always thought it was a bit too salty.

"D'you think that maybe we didn't get to Madame Rosmerta in time?" She asked quietly, pausing before she took another bite of soup.

"It's possible," Draco said, "Either that, or Voldemort has someone else working for him here."

Taryn really didn't even want to begin to think about that, but she knew that it could be true. "Who else do you think it could be?"

"Practically anyone in Slytherin house," Draco said, "And despite what everyone else thinks, it could be quite a few people in other houses as well. I couldn't tell you who every Deatheater is. Some of them never take off their masks."

* * *

0o0

* * *

Everyone knew that Ron had been poisoned next day, but it didn't cause the sensation that Katie's attack had.

People seemed to think that it might have been an accident. He had been in the Potions master's room at the time, and since he'd been given an antidote immediately there was no real harm done.

Most, especially those in Gryffindor house, were more interested in the upcoming Hufflepuff/Gryffindor match.

Draco didn't really care about the match, but he was suffering with just a touch of cabin fever. Taryn was doing just about anything that she could to keep him in bed.

"It won't send me to death's door if I take one walk. In fact, I'm feeling much better," he insisted. The stronger potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him seemed to be helping, and he felt much better than he had in days.

"It could make you sicker if you go out when you aren't fully well," Taryn retorted.

"If it was that bad then she wouldn't have let me leave the infirmary," Draco said, reasonably. "Come on. One walk, then you can tuck me back in bed," Draco said with a sigh.

Taryn frowned at his logic. "Okay. One quick walk," she allowed.

Draco immediately rolled off of the bed, dressing quickly before she changed her mind. Merlin, he thought, Taryn is a complete dictator in the sick room. He just knew that their future children would never be able to play hooky successfully.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Soon they were striding though deserted castle corridors, most were in the stadium for the match. Draco was uncomfortably bundled against the chill. He hated layers, but Taryn had insisted that a warming charm wouldn't be enough. Rather than argue with her he'd just let her have her way.

They turned a corner to see Harry standing next to a bank of chilled windows. Sighing, Draco walked forward. He didn't feel like dealing with Potter today, but it seemed that he was destined to be denied a reprieve from the other boy.

Taryn had told him about the marauder's map, and he would bet his last Galleon that the other boy was trying his best to keep a tab on him.

"Where're you going?" Harry demanded.

Draco gave a humorless laugh."I'm taking a walk with my fiancee,Not that it is any of your business Potter. Don't you have a game you should be getting ready for?" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe at his suddenly runny nose."

"We should be getting back to the room," Taryn said.

Harry frowned, eying them both"I know that you two are up to something, and I'm going to find out what it is. Trust me."

Taryn opened her mouth, but Harry brushed past her before she was able to reply.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

* * *

"On the one hand, wizard photos can be really cool," Taryn said as they walked out of the Ministry building, "on the other hand they can be absolutely tragic." She looked down at her Apparition license with a frown.

The photographer had managed to catch her mid-sneeze, and because the line behind her was so long, had refused to take another, better photo. Now she was forced to keep the awful, grimacing photo until it was time to renew her license.

"Well, at least we got it out of the way," Chase said. "No more lessons," he added, finally pulling a grin from her.

"That's true," Taryn sighed, before she looked down at her watch. "We have enough time to get lunch before we have to be back. What to you feel like eating?" She asked, tugging on Draco's hand to get his attention.

"I don't care. Whatever you want is fine," Draco said absently. He really didn't have much of an appetite. The copious amount of Pepperup potion he was taking left a low burn in his stomach and made eating less than desirable. He felt like shit, and food tasted like sawdust, but he'd eat every bit of whatever they ended up going for. He couldn't allow himself to weaken and possibly leave Taryn without his protection.

"I vote for Chinese. Its been forever since I had fried rice. I know the perfect place and fortunately its not very far from here," Chase said.

"Let's go with that then," Draco said. He really wanted to just be in his bed, under his covers. It was exhausting, trying to keep everyone from realizing how shitty he actually felt.

Taryn tightened her hand in his, looking at him intently.

He was pretending to feel much better than he actually was, and really, he was doing a pretty good job.

Anyone else would think that he was just as healthy as ever but he wasn't fooling her. She'd found three empty bottles of Pepperup Potion, that he thought he'd stashed in the bathroom. She figured that he was using it just before taking his shower to cover the steam coming out of his ears, but she wondered how he was hiding it.

Usually Pepperup caused steam to come out of the drinker's ears for several hours. Perhaps it was because it was a different variety, maybe? She was angry that he was keeping his illness a secret, and she was planning to confront him about it as soon as was possible.

He had done as Madame Pomfrey had asked, taking the medicine that she had given him faithfully, but he was blatantly ignoring her orders to return if his cold didn't abate.

Taryn was worried. A mere cold didn't last as long as his had, especially with the use of wizard medicines to combat it.

She knew that Draco had a lot weighing on his mind at the moment, what with his mum in an undisclosed location, his father languishing in Azkaban, and now the role as "junior double agent" to the order, but she didn't want him to ignore his health. She wouldn't let him ignore it any longer. She made a mental note to talk to him about it later than night.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Draco was taking a bite of his broccoli beef when the familiar, yet dreaded sting of pain played across the skin of his forearm.

The chopsticks he held fell from his loosened grasp, clattering against the polished wooden table and leaving a mess of sauce that very much resembled a forlorn Rorschach picture to his suddenly blurred vision.

"Draco?" Taryn's husky voice was filled with inquiry. Her expression grew concerned when she rested her hand against his bicep, and felt the tension coiled there.

Chase, who was sitting in the booth across from them, watched his face also a study in concern. "You okay, mate?"

Draco stood abruptly, biting the inside of his lip against the pain of his burning forearm. He knew that the pain would only get worse the longer he took in responding, until it was agonizing, the closest you could get without Crucio. A cold chill of sweat broke across his skin, and he stiffened his spine against the shudder that wanted to play through his body.

"I have to go," He said.

He could see Taryn piecing it together, as evidenced by the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Um...I'll see you later, then?" Her voice trembled slightly.

Chase's brow crinkled in confusion. "But you haven't finished..."

"Taryn will have them box it for me right?" Draco said, lowly.

Taryn nodded, placing a completely false, bright smile on her face. "Of course I will. And I'll make you something different later if you end up not wanting it. I'll make sure you have something," she said.

Draco heard her unspoken words. _You will be able to eat something, because you _will_ be back. _

Taryn wanted to act like a complete damsel in distress, and cling to him, begging him not to leave, but she knew that it wouldn't make a difference. It would only make him worry about her, and in the end he would still have to go.

She didn't resist when he pulled her from the booth, pulling her against him, and hugging her tightly before his mouth crashed down against hers. He kissed her for what seemed like decades, and at the same time not nearly long enough.

He pulled slightly away, his forehead against hers. "I _will _come back to you." He whispered.

"I know you will," Taryn said, her teeth coming out to worry against her kiss swollen bottom lip.

Draco reluctantly released her, walking stiffly to the entrance of the restaurant. He turned, giving her one last glance, his grey eyes seeming to pin her into place, before he walked out the door.

Draco walked down the sidewalk, and turned a corner into an empty alley, before letting the mark take him away.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Draco stood in the back yard of a small, two story home. Toys littered the frost laden ground. A small red bike, complete with training wheels lay on its side, as if it was waiting for the child that owned it to run back out and climb on to take another ride. A swing set painted a bright green stood to his left.

He pulled his wand out, looking around, taking in any details he saw. The urge to cough climbed up his throat, and he used one hand to root in his pocket, pulling out a honey lemon cough drop, his eyes constantly scanning the yard as he popped the small lozenge in his mouth. He could have used a spell, of course, but he liked the lozenges better. They melted quickly, and soothed his throat without pulling away his concentration.

A wooden deck stood before him, and he mounted the small steps, standing on it, and looking at the large set of glass patio doors in front of him.

Why wasn't anyone waiting for him? Usually Voldemort had one of his many lackeys waiting to usher him, and others to wherever the man had deemed his current throne room.

This was different. It made unease curl, and settle uncomfortably in his stomach. He strode forward, peering into the frosty glass. When he saw the the room the patio doors opened to – a kitchen – was empty, he pulled the door open and stepped into the quiet room. His shoes crunched on the broken glass that was strewn like confetti across the white tiled floor.

Draco tried his best to ignore the colorful crayon art that was displayed on the refrigerator, pinned against the white appliance with yellow smiley face magnets.

Underneath the whimsical art was a smeared, bloody hand print, and a puddle of blood smeared into a dark trail that let to a small laundry room just off the kitchen.

The room didn't have a doorway, so there was nothing to impede Draco's view of the horror within. A man was lying on the floor, his torso riddled with stab wounds. His throat was cut in an macabre semblance of a smile, and blood was pooled underneath him, but it was the agony, the horrified surprise, that was frozen on his face that made the tiny bit of food Draco had manage to consume crawl back up his throat. He swallowed several times, forcing the bitter bile back down to burn uncomfortably in his stomach.

Draco tightened his hand on his wand, before backing slowly out of the small room and continuing to the living room.

The room was tastefully decorated, or it would have been if it hadn't looked as if it had been burglarized. Paintings were crooked on the walls. A large family photo – in which Draco recognized the slain man lying in the laundry room – was sprayed with dark, congealing blood. A broken table lamp was lying on the floor, its mate had fallen onto one of the slashed, couch pillows that littered the floor, and lent the room a thin, feeble light.

Draco hadn't realized just how silent the home had been until a thin, agonized wail broke through the cold, tomb like quiet.

His head snapped to the stairs. He walked over and placed his hand on the heavy wooden banister. He hesitated for a moment before quietly, carefully mounting the carpeted stairs.

When he reached the landing, he could see more dark pools of blood soaking into the carpet, turning the creamy beige into what looked like oil spills in the darkness.

A door was cracked at the end of the hallway, a bright golden light streaming from the opening.

Steeling his resolve, he walked to the door and pushed it open.

A woman was sprawled in the middle of the floor, her pretty peach jumper stained with blood from her multiple stab wounds. Her eyes were open, unseeing.

The creak of a chair had Draco's head turning to the left, his gaze landing on the Dark Lord, who was calmly rocking the chair slowly.

Draco pushed back the clinging horror at the scene in front of him, putting his wand away and dropping down to his knee beside the dead woman.

"M'lord? You called for me?" He said, quietly. He was surprised that his voice didn't tremble. The effort of pushing back the scream that wanted to spill from his throat was immense and taxing.

The thin, choking wail sounded again, and against his will, Draco's eyes cut to where the sound originated.

There was a small boy, no more than six years old, crouched beside the bright, yellow painted dresser. Belatedly, Draco realized that he was in a child's room – his mind had been consumed by the murdered woman in front of him – as evidenced by the cheerful mural of Sesame Street character's painted on the walls.

The boy was covered in blood. His knees were against his chest, bloody arms clasped around them. An abandoned kitchen knife was lying on the carpet in front of his two small feet.

In between the low wail Draco could make out a few garbled words.

"Sorry, Mummy. I didn't...didn't want to..." the wail started again cutting off the words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Draco flinched, expecting the curse to hit him, and almost wanting it to when it hit the little boy instead. The choked voice, the sobbing wail, cut off and the boy slumped against the dresser, quiet.

"Ssstand," Voldemort's chilling voice cut through the sudden silence of the room.

Draco stood and couldn't prevent a gasp when he was pushed bodily across the room, his pack pinned against the gaily painted wall.

"Yesss, I called for you. I thought to kill two birdsss with one ssstone," Voldemort said, standing and waving his hand to indicate the room. "You ssstand in the home of Clarence Little, wizard, and his filthy muggle wife," Voldemort nodded to the dead woman on the floor, "and their dirty Half-blood ssson. Clarence thought to influence mindsss with his ssseminars on equality between the magical and non-magical racesss. It amused me to have hisss ssspawn do away with both him and hisss wife," Voldemort's face split into a ghastly grin.

Draco clinched his teeth to remain silent.

"Nothing to sssay? I think I like you Draco. You aren't asss full of excusesss and hot air like your father, though I think another chat between ussss is far overdue. Now, tell me, where I can find your mother?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? Your mother has disappeared without a trace. None of mine hasss been able to locate her. Are you not concerned for her welfare?"

Draco swallowed. This at least was something he could answer with complete honesty. "I am, M'lord. My mother is a smart, resourceful woman, and though I am deeply concerned about her welfare, I know that she would want me to continue to make strides in the task that you have assigned to me."

Voldemort chuckled. "A very diplomatic answer. Tell me, what is the statusss of your tasssk?"

"Dumbledore is alive still, as you know. As of right now, I am failing, though I do still have a plan up my sleeve."

"Yesss, you are failing. You have time to woo and affiance yourself to an heiresss, yet I see no progresss! Perhapsss you are more like your father than I thought. Weak, and producing nothing but feeble attemptsss. Crucio!"

It felt like Draco's bones were breaking simultaneously in his body, and he couldn't move, he was trapped. A feeling much like claustrophobia fell over him, like a wet clinging blanket, and he bit his lip viciously to cut off a scream.

Heavy drops of blood ran down his chin when Voldemort finally lifted the curse. He flinched when the man moved closer. Close enough for their chests to brush.

The hissing voice spoke lowly in his ear. "You shouldn't stifle such pretty screamssss. I would so love to hear them. If I wasss a lover of men, I would take the time to break you properly, and rip those lovely soundsss from your throat. You are beautiful though, you resemble your mother very much, too bad I don't have the time to reconsider my...tastessss."

Draco shuddered in horror at the thought, one that he couldn't hide even to save his life. He was sure that the man could pluck it from his head as easily as taking candy from a baby, and so didn't waste the energy trying to do so.

"You present me with a problem. If you...disappear it would bring far too much notice. You and your little heiress have made yourselvesss media darlingsss and it does restrict my options. I've decided not to kill you. You still may be able to complete the tasssk. If you succeed, lovely, and if you don't I won't have to dirty myself with killing you, but know, that I am displeased with you...CRUCO!"

Draco, helplessly pinned against the wall was relieved even as he prayed for unconsciousness to deliver him from pain.

Hours later he was finally allowed to leave the small, blood soaked house.

* * *

0o0

* * *

He Apparated to his apartment. He could tell by the empty stillness that Rico wasn't at home, and was thankful.

He didn't think he had it in him to explain the horror he'd just seen. He was used to brutality. He'd seen his share of injuries in the ring. Broken bones, bloodies faces, but nothing, nothing, like what he had witnessed in that small suburban house.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood splashed room. The little boy who had been Imperiused, forced to kill his own parents, and then put down like a dog when he was no longer useful. He knew that he'd have nightmares, probably for the rest of his days, unless he used a pensieve to remove the memory.

He pulled off his blood soaked clothes, dropping them on the floor of his bathroom, before stepping into the shower.

Pink tinged water swirled around his feet as he tried to scrub away the night.

Voldemort had Crucio'd him repeatedly, pleasured joy in his alien countenance as Draco pushed back screams.

The only thing that had kept Draco from losing his mind was the thought of Taryn, and how she would be left alone without him.

Draco climbed out of the shower, murmuring a spell to dry himself. He gathered his bloody clothes, cramming them into a bathroom trash sack, and quickly cleaned the bathroom until it was spotless.

Reaching into his closet, he pulled out a pair of dark jeans, and a black jumper. Heavy black boots finished his ensemble.

He Apparated to the basement of the building and threw his the bag containing his clothes in the incinerator. He watched them burn, making sure there was nothing left before Apparating directly out of the room into Hogsmeade village.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Taryn had cleaned everything in the rooms as she waited for Draco. Cleaned them the old fashioned way. Magic took far less time, and time was all she had. Much too much time to dwell on where Draco was, what he was doing, what was being done _to_ him.

Chase hadn't been easy to get away from. He'd demanded answers for the way they'd acted. She'd finally told him that it was none of his business, and had immediately felt sorry when the hurt look played across his face. She wanted to tell him everything, but she couldn't. Not without Draco, and definitely not at a time like this. She was going to make sure that she apologized later. Once she realized that Draco was okay.

She was wiping down the counter top in the bathroom when she heard the door creep open.

She rushed into the living room, and relief poured through her body when she saw Draco closing the door behind him.

The relief drained away when he turned, and she saw his face.

Draco's face was chalky white, and dark shadows were smudged beneath his eyes. He tried to walk to her, and stumbled, falling to his knees.

She flew toward him, sinking to her knees and pulling him to her. He trembled violently in her arms, burying his face in her neck. She could feel his hot tears trailing down her neck, and soaking the collar of her t-shirt.

"It's okay," she said soothingly, rubbing his back. "It's okay."

It was like her words freed him, and harsh sobs came from him, followed by a muffled scream against her shoulder.

Tears streamed down her own cheeks as she held him.

* * *

0o0

* * *

It had been several days since his meeting with Voldemort, and Taryn was angry with him but she was trying to hide it.

He knew her, and she was completely furious that he hadn't shared the details of his visit with her.

He just didn't want her to have to live with it too.

The memory had kept him up that first night, playing through his dream and turning it into a horrible nightmare. He'd finally had to take a potion for dreamless sleep, slipping it into his drink when Taryn turned her head. He just hoped that it wouldn't react adversely with the Pepperup Potion he was already drinking like water.

It was on their way to dinner that Taryn finally broke. "I just don't see why you feel like you can't talk to me. Don't you trust me?" she burst out of the blue.

Draco stopped, thankful that the hall was empty for the moment before turning to her. "Of course, I trust you. I just...I don't want you to have to deal with it. I don't want to have to relive it by telling you," he said wearily.

"You can't not talk about it Draco. Something so horrible that you can't even speak of it has to be discussed because if you don't it will fester. It's unhealthy to keep it bottled away. I know that you think that you are being sneaky, but I see far more than what you give me credit for. I know that you are still taking Pepperup, and I know that you are taking something else at bed as well. You have never been as still next to me as you have for the last several days. I'm tired of you keeping things from me. You need to tell me what's going on."

"No," Draco said bluntly.

"No?" Taryn's eyes narrowed. "You really need to rethink that statement Draco Malfoy. I'm not a child, and I'm sick of you treating me like one. Our relationship will be a partnership or it won't be anything at all."

With that pronouncement, she strode away from him, heading toward the Great Hall.

Draco cursed under his breath, and turned on his heel heading toward the boy's bathroom. His scant appetite had disappeared, and he had to gain control before he would trust himself in public.

In the bathroom he stood against the cool tile wall, breathing deeply to settle his emotions. "Fuck," he said quietly, "I'm losing control of everything."

"Who are you talking to boy?"

Draco grimaced. He didn't want to deal with Moaning Myrtle at the moment.

"Nobody," he said, tears choking his voice.

"Maybe I can help?" Moaning Myrtle said carefully.

Draco moved across the room to the bank of sinks, turning the faucet on one and splashing his face with cool water and bowing his head.

"There's nothing you can do," he said quietly, looking up at the mirror. He saw a face through the mirror – Harry Potter's face – and whipped around, drawing his wand, instinctively throwing a hex.

His hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside next to the other boy. Harry threw himself sideways, flicking his wand, and Draco blocked the jinx and raising his wand to throw another hex. Memories of the bloody house streamed through his mind, blending with what was happening in the here and now.

"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"

He shot another hex toward the other boy, causing the bin behind Harry to explode.

Harry tried to throw a Leg-Locker Curse at him that backfired off the wall behind his ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly.

Water poured everywhere and Harry slipped, sprawling gracelessly on the floor

Draco, his face contorted, his mind confused cried, "Cruci—"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.

Blood spurted from Draco's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

"No —" he heard Harry gasp, as blood bubbled out of his mouth, his hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest.

"No — I didn't —" Harry began.

The other boy fell to his knees beside Draco, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood.

Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening scream: "MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

"...hospital wing," Snape's voice said.

When did Snape get here? Draco thought wearily. Random snippets of conversation drifted to him as he allowed darkness to pull him away.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

* * *

Severus was sitting his his rooms, eating a solitary dinner when a feeling of complete dread seemed to blanket his form, and the bitterness of bile rose in his throat. He knew, instinctively that something was terribly wrong with Draco.

The Unbreakable Vow weighed heavily upon Severus with its added responsibility, but he had been unable to deny Narcissa. He wasn't unfeeling, or nearly as cold-hearted as many thought him.

He understood the crushing pressure that bowed the boy's shoulders and the tight confines of the public facade that he was forced to wear, and honestly he felt sorry for Draco.

Severus had made many foolish choices in the course of his lifetime, but he'd _chosen_ them, they hadn't been forced upon him.

He'd known – thanks to the magic of the Vow – exactly when the Dark Lord had called the boy to him and how ruthless Voldemort had been in his torture. It had rubbed against the grain to ignore Draco's pain, but he'd known that Voldemort wasn't intending to kill Draco.

The Dark Lord simply liked his amusements. The activities that the Dark Lord enjoyed during his revels would terrify and scar the most staunch of wizards. Some of those "amusements" had caused Severus to remove many a memory from his mind simply to be able to sleep at night.

This feeling, however, had felt completely different. He'd felt, in the marrow of his bones that Draco was in mortal danger.

The pull of the Vow let him to the boy's lavatory, wand out and ready for potential enemies. What he saw instead shocked him to his core.

Severus pushed Harry to the side roughly and knelt over Draco, drawing his wand an tracing the path of the slash wounds. "Vulnera Sanentur," he murmured quietly, thanking Merlin as the flow of blood began to ease. He whispered the spell several times and was relieved when the wounds began to knit together.

He heard the splash of water as Harry pushed to his knees, followed by the sound of retching.

Severus helped Draco up, looping the boy's arm around his shoulders to help him across the room. "You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might be able to avoid even that..." He trailed off when he noticed that Draco was not following. The boy was mumbling under his breath and seemed delirious, and lost consciousness soon after.

Severus grunted under Draco's full weight and performed a simple lightening spell to keep a better hold on the unconscious boy.

He turned his attention to Harry, voice laced with cold fury. "You wait here Potter."

Severus pushed his fury and questions for Potter to the side and rushed Draco to the hospital wing. Once the boy was in Poppy's care he returned to the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

Moaning Myrtle was hovering beside Harry, simply staring at the boy with censure.

"Go," he said to Myrtle, and the ghostly girl swooped back into her toilet at once, leaving a ringing silence behind her.

"I didn't mean it to happen," Harry began, "I didn't know what that spell would do. I wouldn't have..."

Severus's eyes narrowed. There were defensive spells, nasty ones even used by students in schoolyard squabbles, but not Sectumsempra. Sectumsempra was for enemies, for those that you didn't care if they lived or died. Severus knew this. He knew the incantation intimately. He was its creator after all. There were only a one way that Harry could have learned it. The old potions textbook he had lost long ago. He just didn't know how Harry had found it when he himself had been unable to locate the tome.

"Apparently I underestimated you Potter," he finally said quietly. "Who thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?" He wanted the boy to admit it.

"I read about it somewhere," Harry said haltingly.

"Where?"

"It was in a library book. I can't remember what it was call–"

"Liar," Severus snarled. He pushed through the boy's mind, rifling through his thoughts and memories like a stack of papers, scouring his brain for even a glimpse of the book. He got a flash of what he thought was the tattered copy of Advanced Potion-Making and was determined to confiscate the book before the boy could foolishly harm someone else with his ignorance.

"Bring me your schoolbag," Severus said softly, "And all of your schoolbooks. All of them. Bring them to me here. Now!" He practically yelled the last word, satisfied when Harry turned at once, splashing out of bathroom in his haste.

Harry returned quickly, panting breaths, color high in his face. It was obvious that the boy had flat out ran to his dormitory.

Severus held out his hand wordlessly for the schoolbag. One by one he extracted Harry's books, taking the time to quickly flip through them until only a copy of Advanced Potion-Making was left.

He examined the book carefully before turning his attention back to Harry. "This is your copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_, is it, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said, still breathing hard with exertion.

Severus never ceased to be amazed at the gall of the boy. Lying directly to his face. "This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes," Harry said once more.

"They why," he asked, "does it have the name Roonil Wazlib written inside the front cover?"

"Its my nickname."

Severus's brow rose. "Your nickname?" he repeated.

"Yeah, its what my friends call me," Harry said.

"I understand what a nickname is," Severus said coldly as he looked at the boy. How Harry reminded him of his prat of a father in this moment, all faint glimpses of Lily fading away as he mouthed deceit.

"Do you know what I think Potter?" said Severus, very quietly. "I think that you are a liar. A foolish boy who dabbles in things he doesn't understand. You're a liar and a cheat and you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?"

"I – I don't agree, sir," said Harry.

"Do you realize that you could have killed Draco this evening? You don't do you? You don't have a care as long as you still get your way. Well, we will see how you feel after your detentions," said Severus. "Ten o'clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office."

"But...Quidditch...the last match of the..."

"Ten o'clock," Severus whispered, baring his teeth in the semblance of a smile. "Poor Gryffindor...fourth place this year, I fear."

He left the bathroom before the boy could utter one more word, heading toward his Great Hall.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The deep teal glow of the Inconcussus charm surrounding Draco's bed greeted Severus upon his return to the hospital wing.

Poppy stood over Draco's prone form, the blue of the charm highlighting the lines of concern etched into her kind face.

"His wounds are healed, but I haven't been able to get him to regain consciousness. I've tried everything I know, even Spirit of Hartshorn. His ailment is beyond my ability. I can only stabilize him, but if his condition should worsen," Poppy began to wring her hands in frustration as her professional facade broke. "He needs the stills of the Healers at St. Mungo's, but I'm not sure if..." her voice trailed off as she looked meaningfully at the the mark that was inked darkly against Draco's pale forearm.

"Its probably just a false mark. Many people have gotten them, thinking that it might..." Severus began.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Severus," Poppy interrupted. "I'm not interested in where his loyalties lie at the moment. This isn't a battlefield. This is an infirmary, _my_ infirmary, and I made an oath to do no harm. All I'm interested in at the moment is getting this boy well, and I'm telling you that he needs to be sent to St. Mungos."

"No, that isn't possible," said Severus.

"What do you mean, not possible? If he needs further medical attention you have to send him to the hospital!"

Severus turned to see the Davis girl rushing into the infirmary. Her hair, which had obviously fallen in her haste to get to Draco's side, was hanging in a limp partially constructed topknot.

"No," Severus said bluntly.

"Its not up to you! You aren't a Healer. If Madame Pomfrey thinks that Draco needs to be in a hospital, then I'm not going to go against her expert opinion," Taryn said.

"We can't assure his safety there," Severus said, breaking through Taryn's increasingly irrational tone. "Even here, we can't be sure of who to trust," he said, ignoring Poppy's insulted glance. "Right now he is stable and it gives me time to find someone I can trust to work on him."

"Someone _you_ trust?" Taryn said disbelievingly. "What gives you the right? I'm his fiancee, and since his parents aren't around to say differently, it should be my decision."

"You may be his fiancee, but you are still a minor. His mother gave me the legal right to make decisions on Draco's behalf in her absence," said Severus.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Harry had hurt Draco.

That fact ran through Taryn's mind over and over as sat next to Draco's bed, her hands clasped together to prevent her from breaching the stabilizing bubble that surrounded Draco's bed.

Harry had almost killed Draco, and he hadn't even had the decency to visit the hospital wing to see if he was okay. She cared about her friend, but what he'd done...

She knew that Harry didn't like Draco, but she hadn't thought that he would do something like this. She hadn't wanted to believe Snape when he'd explained what had happened in the boy's lavatory, but it matched the story that Moaning Myrtle had quickly spread around the school.

She needed to hear the story from Harry himself, and she hoped that she would be able to control herself, but it would have to be later. After she knew that Draco would be okay.

He _had_ to be okay.

She wanted to hold his hand, and kiss away his furrowed brow. She shifted, the ache in the small of her back from sitting in the hard chair for hours was forgotten as gazed at him.

The stillness of his form unnerved her. It wasn't like when he'd been taking the potions at bedtime. Then, at least, he'd moved in his his sleep at times, and pulled her closer to his body.

She closed her eyes against the pricking burn of tears. Her stomach churned with regret. She didn't know what she would do if the last conversation that she ever had with Draco was and argument. She didn't like to fight with him, but their relationship seemed to have two settings. Delirious happiness, or burning anger and she knew it was unhealthy. They were both passionate and stubborn, and one spark of anger could build into a wildfire of an argument between them. Usually when they fought, as heated as their fights got, it would eventually burn out and end with an apology, and oftentimes wicked makeup sex.

This fight, especially if it was the last they would ever have caused unease to curl in her belly. As much as she loved Draco, she wasn't sure if their relationship would last if he didn't learn some give and take.

She didn't want to be treated like a china doll in their relationship. She needed to know – _he_ needed to know – that he couldn't keep important information from her. He had to understand that, or she didn't think she would be able to marry him.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The wind rushing against his face felt absolutely real. The crisp chill, which caused tears to stream from his eyes as he flew through the air felt completely authentic, but Draco knew he wasn't actually flying. He wasn't soaring over the New York City skyline – and indeed it was New York, as evidenced by the excellent aerial view he'd had while flying past the imposing figure – and he definitely wouldn't do so, even if he could, totally naked.

So he knew, logically, that he wasn't actually standing in the lavish marble entryway in which he'd suddenly appeared, though it was nice to be out of the cold air. Thankfully he wouldn't be navigating the rest of this hallucination – vision? – totally naked. A length of pure white linen, held in place by a heavy silver belt, was wrapped around his lean hips.

The brush of his hair against his shoulders surprised him as he moved forward, and he reached up to grab a hand of it. What the fuck? His hair had grown several inches and was threaded with silver, actual silver strands that gleamed like tinsel, and just reached his shoulders. He grimaced, reaching down and pulling a strip of cloth from his kilt to tie back his hair. He didn't like his hair long. It reminded him of his father.

He'd had hallucinations before, brought on by lengthy bouts of Crucio, but he was beginning to think that this wasn't one at all.

This was as clear as a Pensive memory, but it was more – palpable. He could feel the cool stone beneath his feet and smell the small bowl of potpourri on the table beside him.

He almost expected someone to come out of the doorway to his left and demand to know why he was standing in their home half dressed.

It was strange. He could feel everything he touched, but he couldn't move it. He tried to move the small bowl of potpourri for a full five minutes before he gave up on the notion.

There was a reason he was here.

The last thing he remembered was Snape's voice, and the copper taste of his own blood in his mouth. And the pain. That he remembered clearly. The slashes of the unseen blade wielded by Potter cutting in his skin played through his mind vividly.

He wondered if he was dead for a moment as he took in the extravagant decor around him.

Whoever lived here had a love affair with ancient weaponry. Thanks to Lucius' rather obsessive love of anything bladed, and weaponry and warfare in general Draco was easily able to identify several of the the battle implements mounted on the walls, and displayed under glass cases.

Draco almost jumped out of his skin when a woman brushed past him, a steaming mug in her hand.

Curious, he followed her as she walked down a short hallway, her long black hair swinging with each step.

He paused when she stepped through an open doorway.

"Are you busy? Or are you ready for a break?" he heard her say.

"In a little bit. I just need to finish typing this paragraph while I can still remember how I want to phrase it," a masculine voice said in return.

"Okay," the woman said. "I'm going to go start on dinner. Oh, and don't forget to call Kyle later. I'm sure he wants to talk about the possibility of staying off campus this year. I told him that we would think about it, but that he would be responsible for paying for part of the rent."

The man chuckled. "I bet that went over well. I don't mind it if he continues to get good grades. I'm paying for our son to go to college, not for a place to throw loud parties."

"Yes, well, we can talk about it later I suppose. You still want alfredo for dinner?"

"That's fine. I'll be in to help you with it in a little bit."

"Okay."

Draco heard the sound of what was unmistakably a kiss, before he heard footsteps heading his way once more.

He waited, his back against the wall, to get a glimpse of one of the people he'd just heard speaking.

He'd expected a middle age woman, but when she stepped from the room he was shocked to see a pretty Asian girl who looked no older than he himself.

She walked past him, a fold of her pink robe brushing against his leg, and headed toward the kitchen.

Draco debated with himself for a moment before pushing away from the wall, and heading toward the open doorway of the room the girl had just left.

He drew in a deep, fortifying breath, before stepping through the doorway.

Draco hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the large, airy office he'd just entered, with its large, floor to ceiling window.

A man, a boy really, was sitting in a large, comfortable looking chair, his feet on the desk in front on him, tapping away at a notebook placed on his lap.

Draco could only see him in profile, but he could tell that he wasn't any older than the girl he'd just seen. These two had a son old enough to go to college?

Wizards lived longer than Muggles, but they still grew old. They didn't stay ageless. Despite its rampant popularity, magical plastic surgery didn't achieve this perfect suspended youth. It just made you look like you'd had magical plastic surgery.

Draco knew what magical plastic surgery looked like – many of his mother's vapid friends dabbled – and he knew it wasn't the case with this couple.

The vision that had seemed mostly harmless grew darker within Draco's mind. What sort of creatures were these people?

Draco studied the boy in front of him, taking in the silver – silver?! – streaked dark hair, bound into a ponytail very much like his own at the nape of his neck.

Suddenly the boy stiffened.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, turning to pin Draco in place with the intensity of his silver eyes. And they were silver. They looked like trapped mercury within his irises.

"You can see me?" Draco blurted.

"Of course I can," the boy said, his mouth quirking. "Why wouldn't I be able to?" His accent was mostly American, but Draco could just hear the thread of another accent underneath.

"Its not an illogical assumption," Draco said huffily, "the girl couldn't see me."

"Shui doesn't share the blood, she wouldn't be able to see you. Frankly I'm surprised to see you myself. I didn't think He was up to His old tricks, but since you are here I can see that He has been. Sixteen yeah?" The boy asked. He lowered his feet from the desk, and placed the computer on the the flat surface.

"Sixteen?" Draco asked confused.

"Your age? You are sixteen correct?"

"Yes, but what has that have to do with..."

"You are coming into the power," the boy's head crooked to the side as he gazed at Draco. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"Of course I bloody don't know what you're talking about!" Draco said in frustration. "All I know is I was in a fucking duel with Harry Bloody Potter, then I was flying naked through the fucking New York skyline before appearing here wearing a knock off Egyptian kilt!" Draco practically screamed.

"Calm down," the boy said standing. "You must be in some kind of trauma, otherwise the power in your blood wouldn't have brought you here. Its surprising actually. Most of you die. Most don't have enough power to reach out for like. You intrigue me," he said, looking at Draco in consideration. "Tell me where you are. Where your body is."

Draco snorted. "Sure, I'll tell you where am," he said sarcastically. "I'll tell the strange creature before me where my helpless body is so you can skip on over and Avada Kedavra me with all due haste."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Avada Kedavra?" his features settled into satisfaction. "So you are a wizard," he said tapping his chin. "I though He would have learned from that mistake."

Draco cursed at himself for letting the anything slip. "So? I'm not telling you where I am creature."

"Creature?" the boy laughed. "That is the pot calling the kettle black in my opinion. Why don't you just call me Kieve?"

"Kieve? What kind of name is that?" Draco sneered.

"Well, I thought that we were a little informal for you to be calling me Mr. Emrys, but if you would rather..."

"Can we stop with all of the witty repartee?" Draco asked, interrupting Kieve.

"Fine," Kieve said, dropping the banter. "You will tell me where you are if you don't want to die. You are probably British, judging by the accent, and most likely rich, judging by arrogance. If you go to school it is either Hogwarts or Durmstrang. I could most likely deduce where you live just from the hints you unknowingly give, but that would take far longer than you probably have, and honestly I can only help you to survive until you reach Him."

"Who is this He you have been speaking of?" Draco asked.

"I can explain that later, but you need to tell me where you are if you want to live," Kieve said.

"Bullshit," Draco said, calling his bluff. "You haven't given me any reason to trust anything you've said."

"Don't you have people you love? Care for? You don't want to leave them without your protection correct?" Kieve said, instinctively knowing just where to strike. "I'm not unaware of the Voldemort business brewing over in your parts, but I haven't involved myself. The balance of power you understand. It seems though He has tipped my hand, _if_ He even knows of your existence. If you want to be there for them you _will_ tell me."

Draco paused. He couldn't allow himself to die. Who would protect Taryn then? He was the only one who could tell people who she actually was, and she didn't have anyone else. He didn't trust Dumbledore to care for Taryn, at least not unless it also helped him to achieve his own ends. He made a quick decision. "Scotland, you asshole. If you hurt anything of mine, I swear that I'll flay your skin from your bones."

Kieve laughed. "I believe that you would try, we are family after all. I would expect nothing less."

Draco tensed in shock, but was was ripped away from the room before he could say another word.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

* * *

Poppy pulled a hand mirror and brush from the shallow main drawer of her desk. Unpinning her nurse's cap, she quickly brushed her hair back into a tidy bun, before repinning the cap.

Her shoulders bowed with exhaustion, and she reluctantly pulled a small vial of Energy potion from a drawer and downed the liquid. A zing of energy ran through her, forcing her body into sudden alertness. She looked at the vial distastefully, before throwing the empty glass into the small wastebasket next to her.

She didn't believe in relying on Energy potions, in fact she warned most of her students against them. There was a reason that they were only sold to wizards and witches seventeen and older. The potion did as specified – it provided a burst of energy – but the body wasn't meant to subsist on false energy. It still needed the replenishment that sleep provided.

Poppy felt that she didn't have a choice. Severus, as Draco's current legal guardian, had denied her the right to send Draco in for more professional help. Her hands were tied. She couldn't provide the help that Draco needed and she couldn't legally go against Severus.

She would have gone to Dumbledore, but he was inconveniently away from the castle. And there was the mark. She couldn't be sure that Draco would receive the help that he needed if his status as a Deatheater was revealed. She didn't have any love for Voldemort, his cause, or his followers, but Draco was a student. At the end of the day she'd made an oath to heal, to help the students that were entrusted to her, and that was what she would do.

The fireplace on the rear wall of her office crackled to life, and she turned to see Severus' face hovering there.

"How is he?" Severus asked quietly.

"He is as well as I can make him, but I hope you've fire-called to tell me that your specialist is on his way," Poppy said wearily.

"I'm still trying to get in touch with him," Severus said. "Can you give me the specifics of Draco's condition? I will need to relay them to get him the proper care."

"He would receive proper care at St. Mungo's," Poppy snapped.

"You know why..." Severus began.

"I do know why," Poppy interrupted, "but that doesn't change the facts. The only thing that I can diagnose, without a doubt, is that he isn't infectious. Something is blocking the effectiveness of the basic treatments used for his symptoms. He is shifting between chills, fever, and he has begun coughing up blood. I've had to raise the level of the Inconcussus charm and had to layer it with an additional breathing charm, because his lungs are only thirty percent functional. His body is shutting down Severus," Poppy finished sadly.

Severus was quiet for a long moment before speaking once more. "Let me try one more contact. If I can't reach him, then we will have Draco moved to St. Mungo's."

"Fine," Poppy said tiredly, before her eyes narrowed on him once more. "I'm risking his life, against my professional opinion because you said that you knew of a specialist who could help. You get one more hour. If I don't hear from you by then I will be taking Mr. Malfoy to the hospital with or without your permission. I don't care about the legal ramifications."

"Understood," Severus said quietly.

After Snape's face blanked from the fireplace, Poppy stood and quietly made her way back toward Draco's bed to check his prognosis.

She stopped when she heard Taryn's emotion choked whisper.

"You have to wake up. You have to get better. We promised things to each other. Please...stay. Don't leave me."

Tears trailed down the girl's pale face, and Poppy felt almost a physical punch to her heart as she witnessed the girls pain.

A loud pop startled her as a house elf appeared next to the girl.

"I has those books that miss wanted," the house elf's arms were loaded down with a stack of books so high that only her eyes could be seen.

Poppy recognized the distinctive sky blue cover of _Dr. Barltleworth's Complete Healer Medical Guide _as the girl began to scour the heavy tome obviouslylooking for anything that she thought might help Draco's condition.

The nurse quietly made her way back to her office, intending to give the girl a few more private moments.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Taryn moved slowly from the chair, her muscles tired and achy from sitting in the same place for hours, and headed toward the small unisex restroom near the entrance of the Hospital wing.

She splashed her face with cool water and filled one of the small paper cups there, gulping down two cupfuls in quick succession.

She grimaced as she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. Dark smudges were under her eyes, and her bun had loosened enough to hang limply by her left ear. She pulled the pins from it and ran her fingers through her hair before braiding it and tying it off with an elastic that she fished from her pocket.

Draco's curtained bed was near the rear of the wing, so it took her a moment to make sense of the quiet words she heard.

"Its good to see you here Sir. Perhaps you will be able talk some sense into Severus. Mr. Malfoy needs proper care, care that I can't provide him here. Severus won't let me send for Healer's or have the boy transferred to St. Mungo's," Taryn heard Madame Pomfrey say quietly.

"There isn't a need for that. I have what the boy needs right here. I might have been part of the reason for some of Severus' delay, but the ingredients for this potion were rather hard to come by," replied an unknown male voice.

Taryn rounded the opaque white curtain surrounding the bed to see Madame Pomfrey and a strange teenage boy standing over Draco.

"Is this the specialist that Professor Snape was trying to contact?" Taryn asked.

Madame Pomfrey looked at her like she had two heads. "What are you talking about? This is Professor Dumbledore of course."

Taryn glanced at the woman quickly before whipping out her wand and training it on the boy. "Step away from the bed," she said quietly, her wand never wavering as the boy complied.

"Are you daft girl? That is Professor Dumbledore that you have at wand point! Lower your wand at once," Madame Pomfrey said, her voice ringing with authority.

"No, he isn't. He is someone I don't know, in disguise standing over my fiance while he's helpless. I'm not taking my eyes, or my wand, off of him until I get some answers," Taryn said bluntly.

The boy standing in front of her was most certainly not Professor Dumbledore. He was wearing a white jumper, dark wash jeans, and a billowing black trench coat. He had silver streaked hair bound into a ponytail at his nape. That in and of itself wasn't alarming. There had been a trend of metallic colored hair a few years ago. People had been taking Byrd's MetaliK, a potion that temporarily streaked or made one's hair any metallic shade of their choosing, left and right last year.

No, it was the strange inhuman silver eyes that unnerved her the most. That and the fact that he was successfully – that is apart from her – masquerading as the Headmaster of Hogwarts when there were wards against such things. He obviously wasn't taking Polyjuice, or she'd have thought he was Dumbledore as well. He was using something else, and was obviously powerful enough to maintain it within the school walls.

"Miss Davis," Madame Pomfrey began, "You're overtired and you aren't seeing things as they are. What you need is some rest. Now if you will return to your rooms then–" the nurse's voice trailed off mid-sentence as she froze into place.

"Stupify!" Taryn yelled, as she threw the Stunning charm toward the boy. Her eyes widened as the spell seemed to bounce away from the boy, blinking out of existence.

"Confringo!" She tried again, leveling the strong explosion spell toward the stranger. She began to panic as the spell simply faded away from the boy without a sound.

She whipped her hand back to try another, and gasped as her grip loosened without her permission. Her wand hit the floor, rolling across the stone, before levitating into the air and coming to rest on the boy's outstretched hand. Her wand was soon placed somewhere in the folds of his enveloping trench coat.

"Are you quite finished?" The boy asked, his tone laced with indulgent boredom.

"Not yet," Taryn said firmly as she rounded the bed, heading toward the boy. She was nowhere near Draco's martial art prowess, but she figured that her strong dancer's legs could cause some damage if she got close enough.

Her leg swung out, aiming for the boy's smug face. She was unsurprised when it bounced off of whatever shield he was using. Only Tracey's graceful balance allowed her to stay on her feet after the failed kick. Her face reddened in anger and frustration.

"I'm not here to hurt anyone, and now that we have established that you _can't_ hurt me, perhaps you'll let me do what I came here to do," the boy said.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I'm here to help Draco. In fact, I'm the only thing standing between him and death at the moment. We don't have time for idle chatter. If I had wanted to kill him, you, or your nurse here, there is absolutely nothing you could do to stop me."

Taryn quickly pondered her choices and fell back on logic. The boy was right. He was obviously powerful, and if he'd wanted to kill them he would have probably already done so. She didn't have her wand, and obviously she couldn't physically harm him.

"Fine," she finally said. "But if you hurt him, I'll kill you. I don't care how powerful you are, I'll find some way to hurt you," she said seriously.

The boy nodded once, his expression businesslike as he turned his attention toward Draco. Taryn made herself stay still as the charm dropped from around Draco's bed. The glow and gentle hum that accompanied it ceasing abruptly.

The boy unbuttoned the sleeve of his shirt and pushed the material up past his elbow. Taryn gasped as the nails on his opposite arm grew into what resembled sharp talons, and he ran the nail of his pointer finger over the flesh of his forearm. Blood dripped from the wound, and he held the cup below his arm to catch the liquid. The flesh knitted back together in front of her eyes.

What the hell was this boy? He obviously wasn't human, that was for sure.

"Blood Magic! Are you insane?" Taryn asked in shock. "No one uses that anymore."

Blood Magic was a powerful, rarely used form of magic. It was unstable and could backfire on the user, tying them to whatever spell they attempted. In medical use, if not performed properly, it could cause the person giving the blood to take on the malady as well, killing the well intentioned blood donor.

The boy eyed her with annoyance. "It's not like I can take him to Royal London. St. Mungo's couldn't help him either. This malady is hereditary. This isn't the rough Blood Magic you humans use. Help me raise him. He is going to need to drink as much of this as we can get into him."

"I'm not going to let you feed your blood to him! I don't even know what the hell you are."

"What I am is unimportant at the moment," the boy sighed. "Now help me raise him, or get the fuck out of my way."

Taryn pushed back her questions, and moved to help the boy. Restraints slithered up the bed and latched onto Draco's arms to hold him into place.

"He'll need them," the boy said at Taryn's questioning look. The boy placed the cup on Draco's lips and tilted it into his mouth.

Draco's face scrunched as he began to drink the warm, thick red liquid.

Draco's eyes suddenly popped open, staring unseeingly at some point across the room. Taryn gasped. The soft dove grey had been replaced with metallic silver.

Draco greedily drank the entire cup, his voice coming out as inhuman growls.

The boy pulled the cup away, ignoring Draco's snarls as he tried to get back to the cup. Draco's body began to shake, his fists clinched tightly, the restraints biting into his skin.

"What's wrong with him? What did you do?" Taryn screamed.

"Calm down! Its only the blood integrating into his system. My blood is very powerful. He is merely a fledgling, and I'm as near to a pureblood as you can get."

A pureblood what? Taryn wanted to shake the boy in frustration. He kept giving her non-answers and she hated it. She hated that she was forced to trust him.

"Do you love him?" the boy asked urgently.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Taryn asked, tears streaming down her face as she watched Draco writhe in agony.

"Its the one thing that's going to help him make it. If you love him you can tether him to this world. Using these," the boy said as he pulled two smooth silver torques from his coat pocket. "Would you give your life for him?"

Taryn didn't need to think about her answer. "I would."

The boy smiled, and the expression changed his face, settling it into much more friendly lines. "Good." He pulled open the necklace, placed around Draco's neck where it sealed together seamlessly.

He crossed over to her, and Taryn couldn't help flinching back a bit. "It's okay," he said soothingly. Pulling the necklace open, he placed it around her neck.

Draco stopped thrashing on the bed as soon as the metal sealed around her neck.

"What is this?" Taryn asked, touching the necklace.

"It tethers his life force to yours," the boy explained. "Your body is of this Earth. A part of Draco is, but that part isn't strong enough to keep him here, not without help. However, this is only a temporary solution. It will give him six months, eight months tops."

"What do you–"

"Water," Draco croaked from his bed.

Taryn moved to the bedside table. She grasped a glass and filled it with clear, cool water. She sat on the edge of Draco's bed and brought the glass to his mouth.

He tried to reach up to hold the glass for himself, and frowned, looking down at his restraints. "Why am I tied up? Taryn? What's going on?" Draco's gaze landed on the boy, his eyes widening in shock. "_Kieve_? You're real?"

"You know him?" Taryn asked, looking from one boy to the other.

The boy – Kieve – replied. "We've met before yes. I'd say it was about time to meet my little brother. In person that is," he said with a smirk.

Draco frowned. "Brother? You aren't my brother."

"You sure about that?" Kieve asked. He began to unbuckle the restraints binding Draco to the bed.

Draco sat up, rubbing the sore skin on his wrists. "I seem to remember you speaking about having a college age son. My parents are human. They aren't even old enough to have a kid that old."

"Your _mother_ is human, and we _are_ brothers. Half brothers if you want to get technical," Kieve said.

"What the fuck are you insinuating? My mother never stepped out on my father, and if she did it wouldn't be with anything not human," Draco said angrily. He pushed the covers back, swinging his feet to the floor as he prepared to stand.

"Stop," Taryn said, moving closer. "I just watched you almost die. You keep your ass in that bed."

Draco scowled at her, but didn't make a move from the bed.

Kieve snickered. "Well, I see who wears the pants in this relationship."

"Shut up," Taryn snapped before Draco could say a word. She leveled her gaze on Kieve."You promised me answers. You need to stop bullshitting and start explaining."

"I haven't had to explain any of this in over five centuries..." Kieve started.

"Five _centuries_?" Taryn gasped. "Just how bloody old are you?"

"I no longer remember the exact year, but I was born in the early part of the fifth century in what is now Camarthen, Wales," Kieve began, ignoring the gobsmacked look on both Draco's and Taryn's faces. "My mother was the last illegitimate child fathered by an aging king. My father, _our_ father, well, he is the reason that I am here. He is the reason why you are in that bed, the reason why you have been sick. It is because you aren't human, at least not entirely so."

"My mum wouldn't cheat on my father. Lucius is an asshole, but she loves him," Draco said. It was true. Draco wished that his mother loved Lucius less. He tried not to think about it. He loved his mother and didn't want to resent her, but if hadn't loved Lucius then he wouldn't be in a devil's bargain with the Dark Lord.

"I'm sure that she didn't knowingly commit adultery. Our father's name is Kokobiel. His modus operandi is to make a mockery of the state of marriage. It is one of his favorite pastimes. He isn't human, and he doesn't think like one. It isn't that he doesn't have a conscience, its that his conscience works of a different set of rules than the ones that you or I might use. He creeps into the marriage beds of an unhappy wives, and seduces them wearing the face of their husband. He leaves once he is finished, and doesn't concern himself with the aftermath. Not every indiscretion results in a child, especially not in this realm. You have scores of siblings Draco. Most aren't human and live within his realm. Some were half-muggle and died at birth. Only five were half witch or wizard, and that includes you and I."

"What makes us different?" Draco asked. He was beginning to believe Kieve, though he wished it wasn't so. Too many things were falling into place. Draco could count on one hand the times he had been sick, including this time. He healed extremely quickly. And there was the vision quest...

"Kokobiel has mated with thousands of women. Fae, Veela, Sirens, Nymphs, Nereids – I could name them all day – but only five of the children he fathered that were half human lived beyond birth. Three died at the age of sixteen. I survived because I was magical. My mother was a powerful, though humble, witch. Despite her father's bloodline, she didn't want a position of power, and her illegitimacy prevented her father from using her as a valuable political tool. She was married to a man of her father's choosing and managed to hide the circumstances of my birth until my sixteenth year."

"In my vision, you said that I was coming into the power? What did you mean?" Draco asked.

"Your blood, the blood that we both share, is taking over," Kieve let out a bark of humorless laughter. "I'm not surprised that your mother didn't tell you about Kokobiel. He never reveals himself, and she was probably too scared to tell anyone."

Draco wanted to be angry, but he felt a bone deep sadness instead. Had his mother ever been happy? It seemed that she had spent most of her life being scared of one thing or another.

Kieve sighed. "I wish I didn't have to tell you this. This is the fourth time I have had to explain this, and it is never any easier. I want you to know, little brother, that I am glad to have met you. I am always pleased to meet a sibling, and I'll do whatever I can to help you survive. Kokobiel has mostly confined his dalliances to his realm in recent years, but he's a right bastard. It doesn't surprise me that you're here."

"You said that there were five half witch/wizard children. What happened to them? And what is the significance of the sixteenth year?" Draco asked.

"Like I was saying, you are coming into your power. It is something that people like us, children of Watchers, go through during our sixteenth year. The blood of a Watcher is extremely powerful, and was not meant to be passed to offspring. It can literally burn you out. My blood will give you a window of time to figure out what you want to do next. It is a chance that our other half siblings didn't get. They weren't strong enough to call out for me, and I didn't know of them until I felt the pinch of their lifeforce blinking away. My blood and the torque will give you some leeway. You can thank her for that," he said motioning toward Taryn.

Draco grimaced, recalling the taste he'd had in his mouth upon waking. He reached toward his neck, feeling the skin warmed metal that rested there. "Taryn, what did you do?"

Silver still swirled within his eyes and Taryn looked away from his penetrating gaze.

"Uh Uh, baby," Draco said, gently grasping her chin and turning her gaze back to his. "Tell me. What did you do?"

"I don't regret it. My lifeforce is tethered to yours. I don't care about the risk to my life," Taryn stated stubbornly. "I'd do it again if it was needed," she reached up to touch her necklace.

"Risked your life?" Draco asked carefully, dangerously. "Why did you do it? I don't want you to risk your life for me!"

"What? So it's only okay for _you_ to risk your life for _me_? Because that is what you've been doing. You are sacrificing your freedom working with Dumbledore. You've been letting Voldemort nearly torture you to death to protect me and your mum. I'm tired of it! I'm grown enough to make my own decisions about what I want to risk, and you are just going to have to fucking deal with it!" Taryn's chest rose and fell, her cheeks bright red as she wrestled with her anger.

Draco's mouth opened and closed as he wrapped his mind around what she was trying to tell him. "I just...I want you to be safe. I'd fucking lose my mind if something happened to you."

"Draco, I feel the exact same way. I love you, but I'm not going to be the 'little woman' who doesn't worry her pretty little head about problems. You have to understand that if we are going to be together."

"If?" Draco asked. Was she saying that she didn't want to be with him?

His thoughts must have shown on his face because she answered. "I want to be with you, but you have to work on this if we are going to be successful."

"Okay, baby," Draco said quietly. He _would_ work on it. He had to. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to keep her. He hadn't told her, but he fucking loved her so much.

Taryn turned to Kieve, pushing back her embarrassment at him being witness to their very private discussion. "What is Kokobiel?" she asked.

"He is – was – a Grigori, or Watcher," said Kieve. "The Watchers were a group of angels sent to watch and guide the human race. "

"I've read about the Grigori," said Taryn, "but I thought it had something to do with stellar cults and lore of Mesopotamia."

"That is only one of the legends written about the Grigori. I have only pieced together most of this story – that is when Kokobiel is feeling amiable enough to discuss it – and I'll tell you what I know. He, Kokobiel, was one of two hundred angels that made up this group of "Watchers". They did as they were ordered for many, many years, but soon began to resent their status. They lusted for the earthly things they watched, and after the urging of their leader, Samyaza, decided to disband and live among humans, and so they fell. The children born of their unions with human women – the ones that lived – were often extremely powerful and gave rise to the legends of the Nephilim."

"So, our siblings, they died died because they couldn't handle the power, right? What helped you to survive?" Draco asked.

"My mother, Aldan, was smart and resourceful. She kept the circumstances of my birth from everyone but me. She knew of the legends, and so when she figured out what had really happened on the night of my conception she made the choice to prepare me for what was to come. When other children were playing games, I was learning combat and defensive spellwork. I was taught how to live off of the land, how to survive. On my eleventh birthday I set out to find our father. I figured that I didn't have anything to lose by searching for him. I could be killed yes, but I was living on borrowed time anyway. It took me four years to find him. In that time I made a name for myself. I have had many titles and names, but the name my mother gave me was Myrddin."

Taryn goggled. "Myrddin? As in Merlin? You are 'The Merlin'. The King Arthur Merlin?"

"I am." Kieve said simply.

"Draco. Your brother is _Merlin_." Taryn stressed, as if Draco hadn't heard it himself. "What about the Lady of the Lake Nimue? Is that part true?" Taryn asked in excitement.

Kieve laughed. "She doesn't go by Nimue any longer, just like I don't go by Merlin. It's my name but if I used it I'd either get far too much attention or people would think I was being pretentious. She goes by Shui now. We've been living in America, New York actually, for the the past decade. Our youngest son is studying law at Columbia," Kieve said proudly.

"Nimue is still alive? You have children? Are they..."

"_Shui _is my soul bond, it is the genuine relationship that the torques that I have given you mimic. As long as I live, so does she. We don't age, and I don't know how long I will live. The "Merlin" that you see in popular myth was only one of my Glamours. I have children that look older than I do. We have five living children. Three sons and two daughters. They are regular wizards and witches. Once you have gotten Kokobiel's acknowledgment and if you decide to bond then you will have markings like these," Kieve said, pushing up the sleeve of his right arm to show what looked like a silver inked knotwork tattoo circling his wrist.

"Fortunately you don't have to search for him like I did, but his acknowledgment is the only thing that will save you," Kieve said.

"You mean..." Draco began.

"Yes, you will have to go meet him," Kieve stated.

"When can you show us where we need to go?" Taryn asked.

"Maybe you shouldn't g–" Draco stopped at Taryn's look. He was supposed to be trying. Right. "Will it be dangerous for her? In his realm?"

"I am my father's eldest living son. There have been others before me, and we are long lived, but not immortal and not impervious to injury. When Shui and I go visit Selsenle there is always the threat of danger, but she is bound to me. She's my wife so no one bothers her unless they want to suffer my wrath."

"I'm his fiancee. Does that count for anything?" Taryn asked, raising her hand to show the yellow diamond.

"Where did you get that?" Kieve asked in amazement. "I had wondered how you could see through my Glamour. I didn't realize that you wore a tool of my own creation," he said with a laugh.

Draco snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah, remember Payne said the ring was one of the stones from Guinevere's coronation necklace? I guess he wasn't lying."

"He probably thought that he was or he'd have charged you more," Kieve said, laughing. He sobered. "I don't really believe in coincidences. There is a reason that you were the ones to buy this ring, especially since I've spent many years tracking down the rest of the set. This is the only one left. It isn't actually a diamond. It is a rare jewel from Selsenle, and while it is powerful, it shouldn't have allowed you to pierce through the particular Glamour that I was wearing. Are you sure that you are human?" Kieve asked.

Taryn's mind went back to the night that her bargain was amended. Aisa said that she had given her more than she intended.

She had pushed the statement away in her excitement to tell Draco who she was, but now she wondered. Just what had the girl given her?

"I think that you should finish the school year," Kieve was saying. "I realize that you have a high profile engagement, and I think it would be easier to slip away in the confusion of returning students. You will have enough time, I promise. Shui and I will come for you and Taryn and escort you to Selsenle ourselves. I can speak on your behalf, but you will have to impress Kokobiel all on your own."

"Thank you," Draco said gratefully. It was nice to actually have someone that wanted to help him, and without gain for themselves. He could tell that his brother was a good man.

"Well, I have to take my leave of you," Kieve said, before glancing toward the still frozen Madame Pomfrey. "As soon as I leave the room she will unfreeze, no worse the wear. See you soon little brother," he said with a warm smile, before he Apparated away.

Madame Pomfrey suddenly unfroze. "You're awake!" she cried, looking at Draco in amazement. Her brow suddenly wrinkled. "Where did Professor Dumbledore go?"

Taryn and Draco looked at each other, before Taryn turned toward the nurse. "Obliviate," she said with a sigh.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Draco and Taryn spent the rest of the weekend in their rooms, talking about everything. The things that scared them. The things that they hoped for one day.

Draco quietly told her about that terrible night with Voldemort, and about what had happened in the bathroom with Harry and how that terrible night had influenced his actions.

When Draco went to sleep later that night it was without the aid of potions. Despite the turmoil and unrest in his life, it was the most peaceful rest he'd had in weeks, with the love of his life nestled in his arms.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Taryn was pissed. No one seemed to care that Draco had been _hospitalized_. She hated to think less of her former house, but it seemed like they were more angry about the fact that that their Captain had got himself banned from the final match of the season, than the fact that a fellow student had been injured by Harry's thoughtless act.

Irritatingly, the fact that Harry was going out with Ginny seemed to be of more interest to a great number of people, most of them girls. That, and the fact that Harry, over the next several weeks successfully managed to avoid her in anyplace but classes was enough to set her teeth on edge. She wanted to let him have it, but she wouldn't do it with an entire class full of people watching.

"Ginny told me that he has a tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail on his chest," she heard Romilda Vane's annoying voice saying as she passed the insipid girl in the hallway on her way to the library.

She turned the corner quickly, bumping into someone. "Oh, I'm–" she started to apologize until she saw just who it was she had bumped into.

"Excuse me," Harry said quickly, trying to go around her.

The untidy haired boy was surprised when he was pushed against the wall. "Oh, no you don't," Taryn said, pinning him in place with her small hand. "You have been avoiding me for far too long. What the fuck Harry? What the hell is wrong with you? You almost _killed_ Draco!"

"Well, maybe he shouldn't have been trying to Crucio me!" Harry said hotly, shrugging out of her grasp.

"You didn't have to duel him! You could have turned around and left the room without doing anything, instead you used Dark Magic! Where did you learn a spell like Sectumsempra?"

"I didn't mean to hurt him that badly. I didn't know what it would do! I just wanted the little sneak to own up to what he was doing. It said for enemies, and Malfoy and I have never been anything but," Harry said with contempt.

"Its like I don't know you," Taryn said, unthinkingly.

"What are you talking about? You _don't_ know me. You think that just because you helped me that time that we're friends? You are engaged to a fucking Deatheater. Don't think that I don't know what he is. Everyone knows. Because of that ferret I had to miss out on the last Quidditch game."

"Really? That's what you're worried about? Quidditch? You're reading Dark Magic tomes and throwing curses that you no nothing about at people and you have the gall to mention a missed quidditch match!"

"It wasn't a Dark book. It was the potions text that I found," Harry blurted.

"Our potions text doesn't have spells like that inside," Taryn said, before her eyes narrowed. "Who's text are you using? So that is how you're doing so well in Potions," she breathed. "I knew that you couldn't have gotten that good in so short a time. Didn't you learn anything from the diary Harry? I can't believe that you are following some random person's notes."

"How do you know about that?" Harry asked, seizing on her statement.

"Everyone knows about that Harry," Taryn said, quickly backtracking. "You need to take that book to one of the teachers. Anything that has something that Dark inside can't be good."

"Stop talking about the book!" snapped Harry. "It was only copied inside. Prince wasn't advising that anyone use it. Maybe he was making a note about something that was used against him."

"I don't believe this," said Taryn. "What is wrong with you?"

"I didn't mean what happened to happen. I wouldn't have used a spell like that if I had known what it was going to do. You'll just have to take my word for it," he said before turning and walking away.

Taryn watched him, her anger and frustration turning into sadness. Harry was so rigid in his stance against Draco, and the closer she got to Draco, the further away her friends seemed to drift.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

* * *

Draco was sitting in Alchemy class – surprisingly a class that wasn't shared with Taryn – tapping his quill against the table in front of him when the door opened and a student came in, interrupting Professor Laurel's rather dry lecture on the history of the early alchemist Zosimos of Panopolis,to hand the teacher a summons for Draco to report to the Headmaster"s office immediately.

Draco was surprised that it had taken the old man this long to call for him. Both he and Taryn had been very closemouthed about just what had happened in the Hospital wing, and Draco was sure that both the Headmaster and Professor Snape were more than frustrated with their lack of knowledge on the subject.

"Make sure that you take your things with you Mr. Malfoy, as there isn't much class time left," Laurel said, his annoyance at having his lecture interrupted clear on his face.

Swinging his bookbag strap onto his shoulder, Draco headed directly to Dumbledore's corridor, where the lone gargoyle stood guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office. Reading the ridiculous password – Jelly Belly – he waited for the gargoyle to move, revealing the spiral staircase. He mounted the steps and knocked at Dumbledore's door.

"Enter," Dumbledore called.

Draco strode into the room, turning the chair that stood before Dumbledore's desk backward, before settling into the hard seat. His lazy expression, but for his slight sneer, completely masked his irritation.

Surely Dumbledore could afford better chairs for his guests, Draco thought. The chair in which the Headmaster sat certainly looked comfortable enough. The man could have at least conjured a bloody cushion. Draco felt that it showed disrespect, or definite a lack of common courtesy that the man hadn't done so.

"I felt that it was time that we discussed things privately. I'd like you to feel that you talk to me if you feel the need to," Dumbledore said, his gaze even on Draco over the top of his half-moon glasses.

Draco scoffed. "Really? You never seemed to be interested in my welfare before. Why are you so concerned now? I assure you sir, that I will hold up my end of the bargain we made."

Dumbledore frowned. "It was never my intention to lead you to believe that I don't care about what happens to you Draco. Even though you did intend to kill me."

"We both know that I probably wouldn't have been able to accomplish that," Draco said bluntly. "The Dark Lord fully intended that I die in the process to atone for my father's mistake. If, by some stroke of luck, I had managed to kill you it would have merely been a fortuitous event."

Dumbledore's eyes hardened at Draco's dismissal of his "death" as a fortuitous event. "I would like to know what happened in the Hospital wing."

"I'd like to know how my mother is doing," Draco countered.

"I receive regular reports," Dumbledore said. "By all accounts she is doing quite well. She is living simply, keeping to herself, and working at a boutique."

Draco's brow rose a bit at the thought of his mother working, but he had to admit if his mother had to work, there wouldn't be anywhere more perfect than a clothing store. At least she was safe, and hopefully happy. Draco felt a small prick of sadness. This was the first year he'd had while at school that a care package - including a perfectly baked and preserved cake and a present - hadn't arrived promptly on the day of his birth. Instead he'd had a quiet night in his rooms with Taryn, eating the small cake she'd baked him. They both agreed that calling attention to themselves by having a birthday celebration was the last thing that they wanted to do at the moment, though he wished he could have all of the people he loved the most around him on the birthday that signaled the end of his adolescence. He cleared his throat, pushing back his resentment for the whole situation. "A muggle establishment, I presume?" He finally asked.

"Of course. It would hardly be worth hiding her if I placed her in a Wizarding position," Dumbledore said, steepling his hands together. "Now, I believe an exchange of information is in order. I've told you what I can about your mother's welfare. What occurred on your last night in the Hospital wing?"

"I wouldn't know," Draco evaded. "I was insensible for most of my stay. What I remember is colored with delusions."

Draco felt the subtle, the oh so subtle, prick of Dumbledore's mind trying to invade his. Once he wouldn't have had a chance of keeping his thoughts private, indeed he wouldn't have even felt the touch of the headmaster's magic, but it seemed that with the emergence of his true nature many actions were far easier.

If he hadn't been looking for it, Draco wouldn't have seen the slight widening of the headmaster's eyes at his failure.

"Something happened in that hospital wing," Dumbledore said. "Something that rocked the castle on his magical foundations. My position as headmaster here comes with certain responsibilities. When events occur that could effect the school and its students the castle will inform me, and so I know that a powerful influx of raw, potent magic was released that night. A force that rippled throughout the castle, with the hospital wing as it's nexus. It dissipated before the castle could identify its source. Only the castle's ancient wards prevented the power from gaining outside notice. Usually, a power this strong and unaligned with the castle would have difficulty building inside these walls without the express permission of the current headmaster. The only thing I can glean from the castle is that it recognized this power and that harm was not it's intention. As soon as the power faded you were miraculously healed. You and Miss Granger, excuse me _Miss_ _Davis_, are both powerful _children, _but I doubt both of your talents combined could have equaled what the castle reported. You know the identity of the individual who was here that night and you need to tell me who it was."

"I have no idea what you're talking about sir," Draco lied. "Maybe you should question Madame Pomfrey. She was there the entire night."

"I have done so. Poppy tells me that she came to check on you and found you and Miss Davis calmly talking, and that your vitals were normal. She is baffled as to how that is so. From all accounts you were very near death, and yet you sit before me now with no ill effects from your condition. Believe me, some magical maladies have no cure," Dumbledore said glancing down at his blackened fingers, half hidden by his sleeve before, looking Draco over evenly.

Silence thrummed between them, as Dumbledore eyed him.

"I don't have any answers for you sir. May I be excused?" Draco asked when the silence became uncomfortable.

"You may," Dumbledore said, "I have an appointment that will be arriving shortly."

Draco stood and made his way to the door in time to answer a knock that sounded against the heavy wood.

Harry Potter stood on the other side of the door, and Draco moved to allow the other boy to pass him.

Potter paused for a moment, looking at Draco. His mouth opened to say something when Dumbledore interrupted.

"You were leaving Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore pointedly reminded him.

Whatever Potter was going to say was forgotten as Draco was ushered out the door, and the door shut firmly behind him.

Draco bit his lip as he contemplated something that he'd have never tried before the events that occurred in the hospital wing.

"Me vident non. Non audieritis me. Animadverto mihi," he said quietly. The spell was a small one, one that children learned even before they were school age because it wasn't very strong and was easily detected. Since it was such a common spell, and Draco now had more power to push behind it, he didn't think that Dumbledore and certainly Potter would notice it. At least as long it didn't last long. He was counting on Dumbledore's arrogance and Potters ignorance to lend time to his endeavor.

The voices beyond the door sounded crystal clear as Draco spied.

"You've found a Horcrux?" Draco heard Potter say.

Horcrux? What the hell is a horcrux, Draco silently wondered.

"I believe so," Dumbledore said.

Silence.

"It is natural to be afraid," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not scared!" said Potter. "Which Horcrux is it? Where is it?"

"I am not sure which it is - though I think we can rule out the snake - but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here, a cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorized two children from his orphanage on their annual trip; you remember?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes," said Potter. "How is it protected?"

"I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong." Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, "Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I'm coming," Draco heard Potter say tersely.

"What has happened to you?"

"Nothing," Potter replied.

"What has upset you?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm not upset."

"Harry, you were never a good Occlumens -" Draco almost snickered at this, remembering Dumbledore's failed attempt to invade his mind.

Potter seemed to erupt at this. "Snape! Snape's what's happened! He told Voldemort about the prophecy, it was him, he listened outside the door, Trelawney told me!"

"When did you find out about this?" Dumbledore asked.

"Just now!" said Potter, his voice getting louder with each word. "AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!"

"Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "Please listen to me. Professor Snape made a terrible-"

"Don't tell me it was a mistake, sir, he was listening at the door!" Potter screamed.

"Please let me finish," Dumbledore said. "Professor Snape made a terrible mistake. He was still in Lord Voldemort's employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney's prophecy. Naturally, he hastened to tell his master what he had heard, for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know - he had no possible way of knowing - which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onwards, or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew, that they were your mother and father-"

Potter let out a yell of mirthless laughter.

"He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven't you noticed, Professor, how the people Snape hates tend to end up dead?"

"You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realized how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry. I believe it to be the greatest regret of his life and the reason that he returned-"

"But he's a very good Occlumens, isn't he, sir?' said Potter. "And isn't Voldemort convinced that Snape's on his side, even now? Professor ... how can you be sure Snape's on our side?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "I am sure. I trust Severus Snape completely."

"Well, I don't!" Potter said, loudly. "He's up to something with Draco Malfoy right now, right under your nose, and you still-"

Draco scowled. Wasn't almost killing him enough? Potter would have him in Azkaban rotting alongside his father with a Dementor ready and willing to administer the kiss if it was up to him.

"We have discussed this, Harry. I have told you my views." said Dumbledore, bringing Draco's attention back to the conversation occurring in the room.

"You're leaving the school tonight and I'll bet you haven't even considered that Snape and Malfoy might decide to-"

"To what?" asked Dumbledore, "What is it that you suspect them of doing, precisely?"

"I ... they're up to something!" said Potter. "I know it! Professor Trelawney was just in the Room of Requirement, trying to hide her sherry bottles, and she heard Malfoy whooping, celebrating! He's trying to mend something dangerous in there and if you ask me he's fixed it at last and you're about to just walk out of school without-"

What the hell? Draco thought. Someone in the Room of Requirement? Whoever it was doing something in there certainly wasn't Draco, but he did wonder. Draco wasn't naive enough to think that he and Snape were the only people working for the Dark Lord within the castle. Who else could it be? And what could they be mending?

"Enough," said Dumbledore. "Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my absences this year? I have not. Tonight, when I leave, there will again be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of my students seriously, Harry."

The ones that you favor, Draco added silently. He wondered what other "protections" and measures the old coot had up his sleeves.

"I didn't-" Potter began.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter any further," Dumbledore interrupted. "Do you still wish to come with me tonight?"

"Yes," said Potter.

"Very well, then. I will take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."

"Of course."

"Be sure to understand me, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I mean that you must follow even such orders as 'run', 'hide' or 'go back'. Do I have your word?"

"I - yes, of course," Potter stammered.

"If I tell you to hide, you will do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me, and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

"I -"

Draco took that as his cue to leave before his luck ran out. He rushed down the stairs and away from corridor heading directly to his rooms to wait until he could tell Taryn what he'd just learned.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The Hogwarts library had failed Taryn for the first time in living memory. When Draco told her about the conversation that he had overheard, she had immediately pulled out a piece of parchment, writing down all the pertinent information while it was still fresh on Draco's mind.

"I haven't found one single explanation of what Horcruxes do!" she told him, her eyes wide with shock, "Not a single one! I've been right through the restricted section and even in the most horrible books, where they tell you how to brew the most gruesome potions -nothing! All I could find was an introduction in _Magick Moste Evile. _All it said was 'of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction' … How the hell is that supposed to help? I mean, why mention it, then?" She sighed sitting back into their couch, her feet on the coffee table.

"There would probably be something about them in the Malfoy family library," Draco said, "but it kind of defeats the purpose if we go there. We don't want anyone to know that we are even looking into Horcruxes," Draco said bitterly. He was a little pissed that Harry knew something that he didn't and that if his family wasn't so fucked up that whatever Harry knew was something he could have easily found out for himself.

"Damn, it really burns me that I can't just go up and ask him about it," Taryn said quietly.

"Well if you weren't with me–" Draco began.

"Stop. If Harry wasn't so damn rigid–," Taryn sighed, "he just refuses to believe anything but the worse of you. What did he say about the Room of requirement again?"

"He thinks someone is fixing something in there, and I don't know what it could be. Shit, it could be _anything_. We're talking about thousands of years of lost objects, some complete junk and some that should never be found," Draco said.

"I think that we should let Chase know about us," Taryn said suddenly.

"Well, that was random," Draco said half-jokingly.

Taryn turned to him. "You know I've been wanting to tell him for awhile. Do you think we ought to keep it a secret? I think we'd be better off by telling him. Chase is trustworthy. I think that he deserves to know."

* * *

0o0

* * *

Taryn paced from one side of the living area to the other, her socks making a soft scuffing sound against the chilled stone with each tread. She struggled to throw off the tension knotting her muscles, her hand absently tracing the thin silver torque around her neck – the torque that only she and Draco could see.

"Will you sit down. You're starting to make me nervous," Draco said, his silver eyes training on her as she continued to pace.

Taryn was still getting used to those eyes. Draco easily hid them during the day, but once inside the privacy of their rooms he allowed the Glamour that masked their shine to fall away.

It wasn't that she didn't like them – she wouldn't care if Draco's skin turned bright green and his hair bubblegum pink, she would love him anyway – it was just that when she wasn't staring into the reality of those eyes she could forget the fact that Draco had almost died. That she had almost lost the person that she loved most in the world.

She knew that Draco was still upset that she had risked her life by agreeing to Kieve's rather unorthodox medical treatment, but still she would never regret her decision. Now, at least he was healthy. One could almost forget that he had been knocking on death's door.

Draco had told her that he felt fine, but for a feeling almost like static electricity that seemed to play across his skin randomly. The instrument of his welfare, the torque, retained a strange warmth of its own. It wasn't unpleasant, but it certainly was a curiosity that both Draco and Taryn felt needed to be hidden at all times.

The small charm they used to conceal the magical items, as well as the Glamour that Draco used to hide his mark and eyes came easier than ever. Draco barely had to exert himself when he used his magic. He'd always had a talent for wandless spellwork, but he found that he needed his wand less and less.

Taryn was simply fascinated by his heritage, and had already gone through several books on Angelic lore.

"I doubt that any of that is accurate," Draco had remarked.

"It doesn't hurt to read up on any information we can find. I'd like to be as prepared as I can. Its not everyday that a girl is presented with the opportunity to travel to a different realm," she'd replied.

"Maybe we should have paid more attention while Twycross yammered on and on about inter-dimensional travel," Draco had joked.

Taryn's mind ran through random facts about angels before her anxiety broke through once more."What if he doesn't believe us?" Taryn asked worriedly. "Chase didn't really know me when I was myself. I don't think I ever spoke a word to him when I was Hermione."

"You're still Hermione," Draco said soothingly, rubbing a hand down her back. "Inside where it counts, you're still the same person. The only thing that's different is the packaging."

A small smile graced Taryn's mouth briefly. "I just don't want him to think we're both nut jobs. At least when I told you we had shared memories to fall back on to substantiate my claims. Draco, what if he doesn't want to be our friend anymore?"

"I don't think that will happen, but I guess we'll just have to see," Draco said.

Taryn jumped a bit when a knock sounded on their portrait door. _It will be okay,_ Taryn silently told herself.

Finally telling Chase who she was would be nerve wracking, but measured against the events of the past few weeks it would be a cake walk.

* * *

0o0

* * *

"...so, let me get this straight. You think that she's Hermione Granger reborn," Chase asked, eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at Draco.

"I don't think she is. I know that she is," Draco replied calmly.

Chase looked back and forth between Draco and Taryn blankly. "So where is it?"

Taryn's face crinkled in confusion. "Where is what?"

"The kool-aid you both have been drinking," Chase said. "I know that you both have some secret conspiracy thing going on, but don't have to lie about if you don't want to tell me what's going on," he said with a small laugh, but Taryn could see the hurt that he was trying to conceal.

"We are telling you the truth. I would have told you myself, but it violates the bargain I made. You can't imagine how frustrating it has been to talk myself in circles around what I really want to say. I see Harry, Ron, and everyone else from my former house and I can't even walk up and speak with them without everyone thinking I have an ulterior motive. I haven't spoken to my parents in months, and it's killing me. I want to go to the top of the astronomy tower and scream out exactly who I really am, but I can't. It's actually really risky even talking to you in this way. Please believe that I'm telling you the truth. I'll even invoke Veracitas if you need further proof," Taryn said, wringing her hands.

"You're serious aren't you," Chase said slowly. "You really aren't shitting me."

"Not even a little," Draco said.

"So are you a Deatheater too then?" Chase asked bluntly. He turned to look at Taryn when he heard her gasp. "Oh come on, Taryn. I'm far from stupid. There are rumors all over the school, but no one has proof. I figure that if you're willing to invoke a truth spell, and that if you value me as a friend then it shouldn't be a problem to just tell me everything."

"This is about me, not Dra–" Taryn began.

"He's right," Draco said, interrupting her. He pushed up his sleeve and allowed the mark to fade into view. He considered letting everything show, and thought what the hell, letting his eyes and the torque fade into view as well.

Taryn felt the torque pulse against her neck as the charm that concealed it broke.

Chase was staring at mark, and so it took him a minute to notice the metallic gleam of Draco's eyes.

"What the–!" Chase said, standing suddenly. "Your eyes! What's wrong with your eyes?!"

Taryn sighed, looking over to Draco. "Maybe we should just start from the beginning..."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

* * *

Blaise stood silently, staring at the tall door before him.

Last year, when Blaise Zabini made a stop in the restrooms on the fourth floor, he would never have guessed that it would eventually turn his fortunes. That it would lead him to finally receiving a mission – and the Dark Mark – from the Dark Lord. Saving Graham Montague from the u-bend of a toilet that day had granted him his wish.

A few months ago, when the Dark Lord had asked him to find a way for his Death Eaters to infiltrate the school, his mind immediately went back to the story that Graham had told him. The other boy told him that while trapped inside the cabinet, he could occasionally hear goings-on at Hogwarts, as well as at Borgin and Burkes.

Blaise had concluded that there must be a connection between the two places, that there must be a counterpart to the cabinet. After the Dark Lord outlined his request he'd gone to the dusty shop, and after a rather dirty and distasteful search, he finally found the Vanishing Cabinet's counterpart.

Borgin's cooperation had been bought with a death threat, one that Blaise hadn't felt the least bit of regret at issuing, especially after the man had tried to blackmail him for sex in return for not selling the cabinet.

Repairing the cabinet proved difficult, and he was a bit embarrassed that it had taken him so long to do so, but he allowed that embarrassment to fade away when his efforts finally proved successful.

He had immediately sent word to the Dark Lord and was notified in return to be prepared to provide assistance to the group of Death Eater's that would be entering the school that very night.

Now, he watched as the ornate handle of the cabinet turned, ticking as it released from its catch. The cabinet door opened slowly, emitting an opaque black smoke that heralded the arrival of the group of Death Eaters.

Bellatrix Lestrange was the first to emerge, a sickly sweet, mad smile gracing her face.

Fenrir Greyback followed in her wake, and Blaise hid his distaste at the appearance of the werewolf. He disliked that he had to be subjected to the inhuman Death Eater's presence, but he did acknowledge that the wolf probably had his uses.

The other five Death Eater's had apparently chosen to hide their identities, as evidenced by the masks and dark cloaks they wore. Blaise, thinking it a smart choice, pulled his own cloak and mask from a small satchel he'd brought with him and donned it quickly.

"Potter had a few of his stupid little friends patrolling the corridor directly outside this room," Blaise said. "I don't think that they will prove to be a problem, but I have Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to aid in our infiltration."

"Very good Zabini," Bellatrix said with a nod.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The days were getting warmer as spring approached, but the nights still retained the crisp chillness of winter. She pulled her cloak closer, before pointing her wand at the crackling fireplace.

"Incentiuis." The fire snapped and popped as it obeyed her command to build higher. The temperature of the tiny room immediately warmed and became more comfortable.

Rolanda Hooch rubbed her gritty eyes with the edge of her robe sleeve, their usual yellow, almost golden tone was dulled from lack of sleep. She yawned, the joints in her back popping as she stretched tired muscles.

She was so exhausted.

It was the nightmares. A faceless evil threatened her life every single night she closed her eyes. For months she'd often woke from the night terrors gasping for breath and sweat dampened, her sheets twisted around her form.

She consoled herself with the fact that if she was getting less sleep, at least the brooms were looking better than ever. She smiled a bit at that thought, before dipping her rag back into the tin of broom polish at her elbow. Her hands ached a bit from the rigorous polishing that the Comet 260 before her was receiving, but still, she continued.

She began to hum as she lost herself in her mindless, soothing task and so was unprepared when the frosty chill of the Imperius settled on her skin.

The rag dropped from her limp hand to land on the table forgotten as she stood, her eyes empty of all emotion as she walked from the room.

Numbly, she crossed the school grounds, the hem of her robes dragged through the cold, wet grass and slapped back against her ankles to muddy her skin, and yet she paid this no mind.

Soon she stood at the school gates. She tapped her wand against the padlock the chains that secured the wrought iron snaking away to fall down against the ground. She stood to the side, her eyes were unseeing as the the crowd of darkly robed and masked people moved past her.

Rolanda paid them no mind – not even as one of the dark figures raised their wand, shooting the Dark Mark high into the sky, illuminating the clouds with its sickly green light – as the second part of the compulsion that controlled her snapped into place within her.

_Pansy_. _Get to Pansy_.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Draco held Taryn's hand as they walked side by side along the shore of the lake. It had rained at some point earlier and the smell of wet earth perfumed the air. The dark lake mirrored the sky, and the sound of the water hitting against the rocks calmed Draco with its natural melody.

When Taryn had suggested the walk, he'd been only too happy to agree. Anxiety, which built steadily aided by the events of the day, had churned in his gut almost like the burn of indigestion.

Draco couldn't believe Dumbledore's gall. The man had basically tried to rape his mind, and didn't seem repentant in the least. He hadn't even been concerned that he'd been caught. He thought himself so different from Voldemort, when the fact was that he was just as manipulative. The only benefit that Draco could see from siding with him is that he didn't think that Dumbledore would murder him where he stood. At least with Voldemort he knew where he stood. He was expendable, and the Dark Lord didn't try to hide it.

Dumbledore tried to hide his lack of regard for Draco's safety behind a pair of half-moon glasses and a set of twinkling eyes, but he didn't fool him in the least. He wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since Taryn trusted him so, but it was bloody hard just to be civil in the man's presence.

"I think Chase took our 'reveal' rather well," Taryn said quietly, breaking into Draco's thoughts.

Draco snorted. "You mean after you had to Silencio his scream and after he hyperventilated for five minutes? Well, I guess we can call it a success that he didn't fire call the St. Mungo's Psych ward and have us picked up."

All joking aside, he agreed with Taryn. Chase had taken the news better than expected, and Draco was glad that they had someone trustworthy that knew their secret. He hadn't indicated as much to Taryn, but he was glad that she had someone to turn to if something should happen to him. It had often worried him that if he was killed, that Taryn wouldn't have anyone. That she would never be able to reveal who she really was to anyone else. True friends were rare, and he was pleased that they hadn't lost Chase once the knowledge of their true natures was revealed to the other boy.

Of course, there could be no mention of Dumbledore. The old man would use any and all information given to him to his own advantage, and the advantage of his few 'chosen' ones.

"I'm glad that we told him. I feel better knowing–" Draco's voice broke off as a sudden pain slammed into his body.

He doubled over, his legs buckling under him. His hand broke free of Taryn's, and his knees sank into wet earth as waves of pain rippled throughout his body with the Dark Mark at its center. Simultaneously a surge of nausea hit his stomach as the pain seemed to merge with the low buzz of power that flowed and ebbed over his skin building into a full body sting.

"Draco! What's wrong?!" Alarm laced Taryn's voice as she sank down next to him, heedless the the mud that now caked both their clothes.

He swallowed, pushing back the threat of bitter bile. He drew in a harsh intake of air. When he spoke his voice was raspy, thick with pain. "I don't know. The Mark...It just flared to life."

"Do you...do you think its him? Is Voldemort calling you?" Taryn asked. She stood and held out her hand, helping Draco to stand once more.

The pain had begun to ebb away and Draco was able to think more clearly. His brow crinkled. "I don't think so. It feels...different. It's always painful when he calls but it isn't _this_ painful. This feels just short of the Cruciatus, but I don't think that it's a summons. It feels more like a warning. I think someone is here."

Taryn wasn't looking at him, her gaze landing somewhere over his shoulder. Her eyes were widening in horror at what she saw. "I think you're right," she said quietly.

Draco turned to look toward the castle beyond them. The green skull and snake mark, the mark of the Dark Lord, lit up the sky over the castle, hovering like a malevolent beacon.

Draco knew then that he had ran out of time. Whatever 'protection' Dumbledore had in place had failed and he was back to square one. Any Death Eater that Voldemort trusted enough to send here was sure to know of the task he had assigned to Draco. If he and Taryn were going to live beyond this night he was going to have to kill Dumbledore.

* * *

0o0

* * *

"You're lucky that its so close to the end of term. The prices for rooms are cheaper now that the holidays are over," Rosmerta said. She set a cold bottle of butterbeer and a bowl of stew in front of the slender young woman. "So, what brings you to our little village?" She asked, her voice colored with curiosity and a fair amount of suspicion.

It was odd to have strangers visit the village so near to the end of the school year, and especially during these trying times. Rosmerta could tell that the girl was American, judging by the accent, but it wasn't that slight Texas drawl that made her stand out.

It was those eyes. Those large grey eyes, surrounded by lush dark lashes. They were a bit startling in contrast to her light brown skin and the coils of black hair that sprung around her face like a kinky-curly halo. Rosmerta was sure that she would never forget this face, but of course she would be wrong. She wouldn't know about the befuddlement spells weaved into the yellow diamond pendant the girl wore, which would render the girl's face – as well as what they discussed – a blur when she was later questioned.

"I'm just passing through as a favor to a friend," the girl said, neatly evading Rosmerta's rather obvious question.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. It's too bad that you choose to visit during this time of conflict. Hogsmeade is a nice village, but really the draw is the school. You won't get to tour at all I'm afraid, what with You-Know-Who and his minions about. It's almost caused us to all but shut down here. Without the students I doubt that I would even still be in business," Rosmerta said. She eyed the girl sitting at her bar for a few seconds, obviously waiting for a reply. When no reply came, she snorted, and rounded the bar to cross the room.

Rosmerta was closing the shades across the inn's front windows when she saw it. The Dark Mark blazoned across the twilight sky. Her gasp of horror was stifled, when a flash of movement caught her eye.

It was Harry Potter standing over Dumbledore's crumpled form.

In Rosmerta's rush to leave the room, she didn't notice the girl touch her necklace and quietly follow her.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Ava followed the innkeeper – confident that the Xanthous stone around her neck would keep her presence hidden – dodging the many puddles of water that littered the street.

Her eyes widened as she took in the Dark Mark, hovering above the castle, and partially filtered by dark clouds. She steeled herself against the thread of fear that curled in her belly. She'd known when she volunteered that this was a possibility, that she would encounter Death Eaters while completing this favor for Grandfather.

Nothing was going according to plan! This was supposed to be as easy pie. Apparate as close as she could to the school, use the stone to monitor the boy's welfare, and then report back to Grandfather with the news the teenager was just fine.

Her unfamiliarity with Scottish weather had worked against her. She hadn't realized that the storm would be so severe. The cold heavy drops of water had forced her to take shelter in the Inn. As soon as she smelled the rich stew cooking, her stomach had sealed the deal. She'd decided that she might as well eat as she waited out the storm, but by the time the storm ended it was very near dark.

The Xanthous stone was powerful, but there were far too many variables weighed against using it after nightfall. Ava had heard stories about the Forbidden Forest and knew better than to try to approach the castle that way. Also, she was sure that the Headmaster, if the rumors were true, had Aurors guarding the perimeter of the school. It would be better to try in the morning. In the end, Ava had decided to err on the side of caution, and booked a room for the evening.

Ava had been on the verge of sleepily making her way upstairs to her bed when the Innkeeper's frightened gasp had startled her into alertness. Something instinctive had told her to follow the woman, and so she'd thrown her damp cloak around her shoulders and followed her into the damp night.

She certainly hadn't expected to find Harry Potter standing over the crumpled form of Albus Dumbledore.

"I saw you Apparate as I was pulling the shades across the front windows! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to - but what's wrong with Albus?" Rosmerta asked, panting, her voice faint as she tried to draw in a full breath.

"He's hurt," said Harry. "Madam Rosmerta, can he come into the Three Broomsticks while I go up to the school and get help for him?'

"You can't go up there alone! Don't you realize - haven't you seen -?" The woman's voice trailed off as she tried to work past the fright that showed on her face.

"If you help me support him," said Harry, obviously not listening to her, "I think we can get him inside -"

"What has happened?" asked Dumbledore. "Rosmerta, what's wrong?"

"The - the Dark Mark, Albus." the woman said, pointing toward the sky where the mark hung above the school: the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building ...wherever they had murdered ...

"When did it appear?" asked Dumbledore, and his hand clenching on Harry's shoulder as he struggled to his feet.

"Must have been minutes ago, it wasn't there when I put the cat out out back, but when I went to close the blinds-"

"We need to return to the castle at once," said Dumbledore. "Rosmerta," and though he staggered a little, he seemed wholly in command of the situation, "we need transport –brooms–"

"I've got a couple behind the bar," Rosmerta said, looking very frightened. "Shall I run and fetch–?"

"No, Harry can do it."

Harry raised his wand at once. "Accio Rosmerta's brooms."

A second later Ava heard a loud bang as the front door of the pub burst open; two brooms had shot out into the street and were racing each other to Harry's side, where they stopped dead, quivering slightly, at waist height.

"Rosmerta, please send a message to the Ministry," said Dumbledore, as he mounted the broom nearest him. "It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong ... Harry, put on your Invisibility Cloak."

Harry pulled a silvery cloak out of his pocket and threw it over himself before mounting his broom; Madam Rosmerta was already tottering back towards her pub as Harry and Dumbledore kicked off from the ground and rose up into the air.

Ava knew that she had to act quickly. This might be her only shot at getting inside the castle covertly. She couldn't just leave. Not when she knew that Draco might – was probably – in trouble.

She clutched the Xanthous stone in one hand, using it to lend power to her Propero spell. She took one huge lungful of air before taking off in a burst of speed, her eyes fixed on the flying brooms in front of her.

"Adspiro," she gasped, her lungs filling with blessed clean air, as her feet flew over the dark, twisting lane that led to the school gates. She knew that she had to make it inside the school grounds at the exact moment the headmaster and Harry did to avoid slamming into whatever enchantments the man had placed on the school.

Ava felt the harsh tingle of a barrier play over her body as she passed through the gates. She followed them to the castle ramparts where they dismounted.

Ava and looked around. The ramparts were deserted, an iron door just to their left was closed tightly. She could see no signs of a struggle, of a fight to the death, of a body, but the stone around her neck pulsed and she knew that Draco was somewhere nearby.

"What does it mean?' Harry asked Dumbledore, his form still hidden under the cloak, "Was the Mark real? Has someone definitely been kill– Professor?"

In the dim green glow from the Mark Ava saw Dumbledore clutching at his chest with a blackened hand.

"Go and wake Severus," said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your Cloak. I shall wait here."

"But–"

"You swore to obey me, Harry. Go!"

Ava heard the heavy iron ring on the closed door to her lift lift as the boy hurried to follow his headmaster's orders. He stopped abruptly, something causing him to pause, and step back if the sound of his footsteps were any indication.

Suddenly, the door burst open and two figures erupted through it one shouting: "Expelliarmus!"

Then, by the light of the Mark, she saw Dumbledore's wand flying in an arc over the edge of the ramparts. Dumbledore stood against the stone, very white in the face, but showing no other sign of panic or distress.

Ava knew exactly who the disarmer was as the stone heated against her skin even before Dumbledore's, "Good evening, Draco. I see that you have Miss Granger with you," the old man said, motioning toward the pale faced auburn haired girl that stood behind the boy.

Draco stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that they were alone. His eyes fell upon the second broom. "Who else is here?" he asked.

"A question I might ask you. Or are you and Taryn acting alone?"

Ava saw Draco's pale eyes shift back to Dumbledore in the greenish glare of the Mark.

"This isn't my doing, old man," he said. "This is a result of your shoddy 'protections'. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

"We didn't..." the girl began, staring at the Headmaster in horror. She visibly swallowed. "How could you believe that we..."

"Well, well," said Dumbledore, as though the girl hadn't spoken, his eyes trained on Draco, "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"No," said Draco. "You have Zabini to thank for that feat. If you weren't so bloody concerned about your precious "golden" boy, maybe you'd have been paying better attention. All that shit about your being Headmaster for a reason was just that. Bullshit. Great fucking protection you set in place," he said, the sarcasm clear in his voice.

"So, you've thrown your lot back with the Death Eaters?" said Dumbledore. 'Yet...forgive me...where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guard, They're having a fight down below. They won't be long...I came on ahead. Because of your ineptitude, I now have to complete the job I accepted."

"Draco, no. You can't..." the girl – Taryn said. "We can just leave."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,' said Dumbledore interrupted.

Ava could hear the sounds of the Death Eaters' distant fight, and in front of her, Draco did nothing but stare at Albus Dumbledore who, incredibly, smiled.

"Draco...Draco, you are not a killer," Dumbledore said softly.

"How do you fucking know?" said Draco at once. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

"I have some idea," said Dumbledore mildly. "I haven't forgotten about the Hospital Wing, not to mention that you almost killed Katie Bell. Forgive me, Draco, but your attempt was feeble... so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart was really in it..."

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below Taryn heard a muffled yell. Draco stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.

Taryn grasped his arm. "Draco, come on. We can just leave. No one ever has to know–"

"No," Draco said. "We can't. He obviously never trusted us. I knew it was a bad idea to go to him. He doesn't give a shit about you or me. Don't you see? I have to kill him. Its the only way that you and I are going to get out of here alive. Those Death Eater's are right behind us. They saw us coming this way. If I don't kill him they will kill us. We can't count on the Order to help us. He probably never told them that we were on their side."

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job," suggested Dumbledore. 'What if your back-up has been thwarted by my guard? As you have realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight, too. And after all, you don't really need help ... I have no wand at the moment ... I cannot defend myself."

Draco merely stared at him.

"I see," said Dumbledore kindly, when Draco neither moved nor spoke. "You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I'm not afraid!" snarled Draco, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. "It's you who should be scared!"

"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. You don't want to kill me. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe...so tell me, while we wait for your friends...how did Mr. Zabini get them in here? It seems to have taken him a long time to work out how to do it."

Draco's arm trembled and took several deep breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter's heart.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight,' said Dumbledore conversationally, as another booming crash sounded. "But you were saying...yes, Blaise Zabini has managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school which, I admit, I thought impossible ... how did he do it?"

Draco said nothing: he was still listening to whatever was happening below, before turning back to Dumbledore. "He was only too happy to blab to whoever passed that he fixed that Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement."

"Aaaah." Dumbledore's sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. "That was clever...there is a pair, I take it?"

"Apparently the other's in Borgin and Burkes," said Draco.

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school...a clever plan, a very clever plan...and, right under my nose."

"Did you have protection on the school at all?" Draco sneered. "I fucking _knew_ not to trust you!"

Ava saw Dumbledore's feet slide a little on the floor as he struggled to remain upright. "But as for being about to kill me, Draco, you and Miss Granger have had several long minutes now. We are quite alone. I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted..."

Draco's mouth contorted involuntarily, as though he had tasted something very bitter. The struggle was clear on his face.

"There is little time, one way or another,' said Dumbledore. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options!" said Draco loudly. "I'm standing here with a wand – about to kill you–"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means. You don't really want to kill me. Hermione would never forgive you, not to mention, the situation regarding your mother..."

"If you've hurt my mother," Draco began, his face suddenly as white as Dumbledore's.

"You needn't concern yourself about your mother's welfare. I did promise that she would be safe," Dumbledore said.

"I have to do it! He'll kill Taryn! He'll find my Mother and have her murdered!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why else do you think I accepted your bargain? I had very little to gain by agreeing to your proposal. I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you. I do care about what happens to you. To you both."

Draco laughed bitterly. "Really? That's why you tried to use Legilimency against me? You know that if he were able to break into my mind he'd have known that I was working for you too."

"I regret that," said Dumbledore. "But now at last we can speak plainly to each other...no harm has been done, you haven't hurt anyone. I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't,' said Draco, his wand hand shaking very badly indeed. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."

"Stay on right side, Draco, and we can hide you and Taryn more completely than you can possibly imagine. Draco...you are not a killer..." He turned his attention toward the girl. "Hermione. You know this isn't the way. You love him for a reason...please."

The girl bit her lip, her face screwing with torment. She turned to Draco. "Please, Draco. Listen to him. We don't have to do this. We can just..."

Draco did not speak. His mouth was open, his wand hand still trembling. Ava saw him begin to lower his hand–

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs and a second later the couple were buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door on to the ramparts. Ava's hand clenched around her wand as she gazed upon four strangers: it seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

"Dumbledore cornered!" he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Amycus," said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. "And you've brought Alecto too...charming..."

The woman gave an angry little titter. "Think your little jokes'll help you on your death bed, then?' she jeered.

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," replied Dumbledore.

"Do it," said the stranger standing nearest to Ava, a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater's robes looked uncomfortably tight. He had a voice like none that Ava had ever heard: a rasping bark of a voice. She could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat and, unmistakeably, of blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails.

"Is that you, Fenrir?" asked Dumbledore.

"That's right," rasped the disgustingly dirty man. "Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?"

"No, I cannot say that I am..."

Fenrir Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. "But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore."

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual...you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right," said Greyback. "Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," said Dumbledore. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Voldemort allowed you, of all people, into the school where his young operatives live..."

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," rasped Greyback. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out...delicious, delicious ..." He eyed the girl standing next to Draco, chuckling at the snarl the teenager emitted. "Don't worry baby Malfoy. I'll leave your bird alone. I had a...snack on the way up here."

He raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, as he turned to leer at Dumbledore. "I could do you for afters, Dumbledore..."

"No," said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. "We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly."

Draco drew in a deep breath, his face settling into resolved lines as he stared into Dumbledore's face, which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, as he had slid so far down the rampart wall.

"He's not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" said the lopsided man, to the accompaniment of his sister's wheezing giggles. "Look at him-what's happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," said Dumbledore. "Old age, in short...one day, perhaps, it will happen to you...if you are lucky..."

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" yelled the Death Eater, suddenly violent. "Always the same, weren't yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don't even know why the Dark Lord's bothering to kill yeh! Come on, Draco, do it!"

But at that moment, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, "They've blocked the stairs – Reducto! REDUCTO!"

So these four had not eliminated all opposition, Ava though, but merely broken through the fight to the top of the Tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them–

"Now, Draco, quickly!" said the brutal-faced man angrily.

Draco's hand was shaking so badly that he could barely aim.

"I'll do it," snarled Greyback, moving towards Dumbledore with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

"I said no!" shouted the brutal-faced man; there was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious. Ava's heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that nobody could hear her standing there.

"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us–" screeched the woman, but at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood a man, his black hair blowing across his face in the wind, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, the enraged werewolf, and Draco and Taryn.

"We've got a problem, Snape," said the lumpy Amycus, addressing the man who'd just stepped on the ramparts, though his eyes and wand never strayed from Dumbledore, "the boy doesn't seem able–"

But Dumbledore had spoken Snape's name, quite softly, pleadingly "Severus..."

Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Draco roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus... please..."

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Dumbledore was blasted into the air: for a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

"We need to get out of here, quickly," said Snape, turning toward Draco and Taryn.

He forced him through the door ahead of the rest; Greyback and the squat brother and sister followed, the latter both panting excitedly.

As they vanished through the door, Ava quickly followed behind them. She heard footsteps behind her – she'd almost forgotten that Harry had been hidden the entire time – and managed to duck as Petrificus Totalus was shouted behind her.

The Death Eater in front of her buckled as though hit in the back with something solid and fell to the ground, rigid as a waxwork, but he had barely hit the floor as Ava jumped over him, frantic to remain both ahead of Harry and just behind the fleeing Death Eaters.

She leapt the last few steps of the spiral staircase and stopped where she landed, her wand raised.

The dimly lit corridor was full of dust; half the ceiling seemed to have fallen in; and a battle was raging before her, but even as she attempted to make out who were fighting whom, she heard the hated voice shout, "It's over, time to go!" and saw Snape disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor; he and Draco seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed.

She heard as Harry, who was still behind her, got caught in a tussle with the werewolf, Fenrir. She wanted to help him, but she couldn't lose Draco.

She skidded around the corner, her boots slippery with blood against the stone. Was it possible that they had already entered that cabinet, or had the someone made steps to secure it, to prevent the Death Eaters retreating that way?

She could hear nothing but his own pounding feet, her own hammering heart as she sprinted along the next empty corridor, the Xanthous stone pulsing against her skin as it led the way. She skidded around another corner and just managed to dodge a curse flew past her; covering her head against a suit of armor that exploded.

She saw the brother and sister running down the marble staircase ahead and aimed jinxes at them. She wanted to use the Propero spell once more, but the Stone had limited reserves and they would need them. She leapt over a pile of crumbled stone, hearing more shouts and screams; other people within the castle seemed to have awoken...

She ran as fast as she could, hoping to overtake the brother and sister and close in on Snape and Draco, who must surely have reached the grounds by now. She burst through a tapestry at the bottom of the staircase and out into a corridor where a number of bewildered and pajama-clad teenagers stood.

Ava lurched around two boys aside as she sprinted toward the landing and down the remainder of the marble staircase. The oak front doors had been blasted open, there were smears of blood on the flagstones, and several terrified students stood huddled against the walls, one or two still cowering with their arms over their faces. A giant hourglass had been hit by a curse, and the rubies within were still falling, with a loud rattle, onto the flagstones below.

Ava flew across the entrance hall and out into the dark grounds: She could just make out three figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could Disapparate.

A flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted his quarry. She did not know what it was but continued to run, not yet near enough to get a good aim with a charm–

There was another flash, shouts, and retaliatory jets of light. Someone else was trying to keep the Death Eater's from escaping.

"Stupefy!" Ava heard Harry cry behind her, but he missed; the jet of red light soared past Snape's head; Snape shouted, "Run, Draco!" before turning back to engage Harry.

"Impedimenta!" Ava called, thanking her lucky stars as the charm hit the couple before they could reach the gates.

Ava allowed the concealing spell around her to fade as the couple struggled to their feet. "I'm here to help– "

"Stupify!" Taryn yelled, aiming her wand at the unknown woman in front of them.

Ava easily blocked the spell. "Stop! Please! I've been sent here by Kieve to help you."

"Why should we believe you?" Draco asked, blood trailing from a cut on his forehead. "You could be anyone..."

"Just touch my hand..." Ava said, sliding her wand into her pocket.

"Don't do it Draco," Taryn said, eying the woman. "We don't know who she is."

Draco knew that it was probably the height of folly, but he reached out to clasp the woman's hand.

His blood seemed to thrum in his veins in recognition. This was...family. "Who are you?" He asked hoarsely.

"Grab her hand," Ava said, nodding toward Taryn. She grasped her necklace with her free hand. "This necklace will act as a portkey. Once we are away I will explain everything."

Draco didn't think, he just grabbed Taryn's hand and let the portkey rip them away from the school grounds.

* * *

0o0

* * *

They landed on a wide open plain. With nothing in the distance for what seemed like miles.

Draco pulled his hand from the woman's, now taking a good look at her. His eyes took in the dusky brown skin, and curly hair but stopped on the big grey eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked once more, his wand raising to point squarely at the woman.

Ava smiled. "Wow, is that any way to greet your great-great-niece?"

Draco's eyes widened in shock.

* * *

**(¯`·._.· THIS CONCLUDES PART ONE OF THE COMPLEXITIES OF BIRTHRIGHT ·._.·´¯)**


	31. Chapter 31

**(¯`·._.· PART TWO ·._.·´¯)**

* * *

"One of mankind's greatest abilities is the power to lie. Whether it's for good or bad, profit or survival, we bend the truth. It's a skill we pick up early and hone over time; pulling the wool over the eyes of our parents, our teachers, our boss...even ourselves. We tell ourselves we'll lose weight, quit smoking, that at the end of the day, we're really a good person. What happens when we call our own bluff? When we can't convince ourselves that deep down, we really aren't the stuff of nightmares?"

Being Human (USA version)

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One

* * *

The corridors were thankfully deserted as Chase made his way to the Headmaster's office. The sound of his feet against the stone was the only sound he heard aside from the distant phoenix song as Fawkes cried his lament.

He knew exactly why Professor McGonagall, the current Headmistress, wanted to see him. His head of house and his two best friends had fled the school, the former accused of murder by Harry Potter himself. Chase didn't know what to think. He knew that Taryn wouldn't have left without telling him something unless she'd had a good reason.

He was unsurprised when his fireplace had crackled to life with Professor McGonagall's summons. He'd dodged the questions from his housemates and made haste toward the Headmaster's office. He didn't know how much help he could offer her, but she could – hopefully – provide some information about what had happened regarding his friends.

In silence he ascended the moving spiral staircase and paused in front of the closed door. He knocked quietly, waiting for permission before entering the circular office. He did not know what he had expected: that the room would be draped in black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore's body might be lying there. He'd never been inside the office before, but it looked exactly like he'd been told. Silver instruments whirring and puffing on their spindle legged tables, Gryffindor's fabled sword in its glass case gleaming in the moonlight, the Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the desk, the phoenix perch stood empty, he was still crying his lament over the grounds.

A portrait had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts: Dumbledore was slumbering in a golden frame over the desk, his half-moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, looking peaceful and untroubled.

Professor McGonagall sat behind the desk, her face taut and lined. "Please, have a seat Mr. Morgenstern," she said motioning at the squishy looking chair in front of the desk.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Chase asked quietly, settling into the chair.

"What do you know about the events that occurred tonight?"

"I've only heard what has been said around the Slytherin common room, which probably isn't very accurate. Not many of us have been outside. As you can imagine, many of us are afraid to leave our rooms. It isn't the best time to be a Slytherin," Chase said.

McGonagall frowned. "Well, let me inform you of the facts. Headmaster Dumbledore was killed by Professor Snape tonight. He, along with your friends, have fled the school. Madame Hooch is also dead, a victim of a modified Imperius. Two other Slytherin students, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, are also missing. I'm trying to make sense of what happened tonight. I need you to tell me if you have any idea of where Mr. Malfoy and Miss Davis could have gone."

"I don't know," said Chase.

Professor McGonagall glared at him. "I have a witness that tells me that you were locked away with them in their room for several hours tonight. You are known to be a close friend. That leads me to believe that you could have some idea of their whereabouts."

"I told you that I don't know," Chase insisted, wondering in the back of his mind about the identity of McGonagall's nark. "It's true, I did spend time with them tonight, but it isn't different from countless other nights that I spent with them. As you say, we are friends. Have you questioned Millicent Bulstrode or Daphne Greengrass about Pansy's whereabouts?"

"Miss Parkinson isn't an accused accessory to murder! Mr. Malfoy and Miss Davis are. If you are lying to me, I assure you that you will be charged for Obstruction of Justice for withholding information and–"

But Chase couldn't respond to this, a sharp voice spoke from high on the wall: A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe had just walked back into his empty canvas. "Minerva, the Minister will be here within seconds, he has just Disapparated from the Ministry."

"Thank you, Everard," said Professor McGonagall before turning back to Chase. "As I was saying–"

"You can stop right there," said Chase. "I might be a minor, but I know my rights. You aren't an Auror, therefore I don't have to answer any of your questions."

McGonagall looked like she'd eaten something sour.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Chase rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral.

He was placing his last shirt into his trunk when his fireplace crackled to life. Ollie's worry drawn face appeared in the flames.

"Are you okay?"

Chase sighed. "I'm fine. Physically at least. Emotionally, I feel like shit."

"I'd have called earlier but they were screening fire calls and would only let family through," Ollie said, strain clear in his voice. "Will you let me come get you?"

"I'm going to go to the funeral," Chase said carefully, awaiting the blast that was soon to follow.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Are you bloody mad?!" Ollie's voice came out in a yell. "I read the Prophet today, and I know that your friend and her boyfriend were involved somehow. You can't stay there. People are going to–"

"Stop," Chase said firmly. "I don't need you to come and get me. I can protect myself just like I always have. People can say whatever they want about me; they will anyway. I just...feel like I should stay for the funeral."

"Why? Were you there...I mean, that night?"

"I was in my room," Chase said. "I didn't know anything happened until later. I can't really tell you anything more than that, at least not while I'm here. I don't trust the connection, and it wouldn't surprise me if someone were listening to us right now."

"Fine," Ollie sighed. "Just take care of yourself. I'll be at the station when you arrive, but promise me. Promise me that you'll tell me what's going on when you get here.

"I promise."

* * *

0o0

* * *

The corridor just beyond the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room was quiet and empty. All lessons had been suspended, and all examinations postponed. Several students had been hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents – many Slytherin students were gone before breakfast on the morning following Dumbledore's death.

He was nearly to the Great Hall when he almost ran into Harry Potter himself.

"Excuse me," he said, intending to edge around the taller boy.

"Wait," said Harry. "I've been meaning to speak with you. I heard something...something that was said that night..." the boy paused, drawing in a deep breath, "and I think that you might be the only one who knows the truth."

"I told McGonagall that I don't have any idea where Taryn and Draco are–" Chase began.

"I know that Taryn is actually Hermione," Harry said bluntly.

Chase looked around, assuring himself that no one else had heard Harry's pronouncement, before grabbing the other boys arm and pulling him into a deserted classroom nearby. He set several privacy spells around the room, before turning back to face Harry. "What makes you think that Taryn is Hermione? Do you know how crazy that sounds?" Chase evaded.

"I was hidden at the time, so they didn't know that I was there. I heard Dumbledore say it and neither Malfoy nor Taryn denied it. You know something and I need you to tell me that I'm not just losing my mind," Harry said, his eyes beginning to water.

Chase sighed. "Look, I know...I can imagine that you are going through a lot right now, but you aren't exactly known to be fond of Draco, or really anyone that is Slytherin. Why should I help you?"

"Hermione was one of my best friends. I lost her and my godfather all in the same night," Harry said, his voice low and tortured, "Something is going on. Dumbledore wouldn't have called that girl Hermione's name without a reason. If she is Hermione then I need to know. The Hermione I know would never have sided with Malfoy. Ever. He's got to have something on her. Maybe he's hurting her..."

"Stop! Draco would _never_ do anything to hurt Taryn. He loves her like...I know for a fact that he did everything in his power to keep her from harm. You don't know anything," Chase said fiercely.

"Then tell me," Harry stressed. "All I know right now is my friend is somehow alive and alined with a group of Death Eaters. They could be doing anything to her right now, and there isn't a fucking thing I can do to stop it!"

"Okay," Chase said wearily, "I'll tell you what I know, but you don't get to tell anyone else."

"Ron and Ginny–"

"You don't tell anyone else unless it's life and death. Swear it, or I won't tell you shit," said Chase.

Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I don't like Malfoy, I never have, but I don't blame him for Dumbledore's death. Really I pity him more than anything, but I also need to understand what's been going on. I'll swear to anything. Just tell me. _Please_."

* * *

0o0

* * *

The mood in the Great Hall was subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour.

He made his way Slytherin table, intent on eating a quick and hopefully quiet breakfast. The conversation with Harry had been intense, fraught with a gamut of emotion, and by the time they were finished talking Chase was emotionally exhausted. He also felt like his belly button was hitting his backbone, and he'd rushed to the Great Hall hoping to at least be able to grab a breakfast roll or something. He pretended to ignore Crabbe and Goyle, who were muttering together and occasionally sending him quick looks. Those he could handle. They weren't the suspicious or downright hateful looks he had been receiving from members of the three other houses. Draco, Taryn, and Snape were absent, so it seemed that many of the students had made the decision to place the blame upon him, and with his refusal to speak about it he was making it much easier.

Chase's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a utensil chiming against the side of a glass. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

They filed out from behind their benches in near silence, Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the Entrance Hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reek-ing of mothbails.

They were heading, as Chase saw when he stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the center of them: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer's day.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Many Chase didn't recognize, but there were a few that he did: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, sitting next to a young woman with extremely vivid pink hair with whom he seemed to be holding hands, Fred and George Weasley, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin, followed by who he assumed were their parents and one of their siblings supported by that pretty Veela girl. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own, Tom, the landlord of the Leaky, the hairy bass player from the wizarding group the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom Chase merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog's Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Chase saw Harry, Ron, and Ginny file into seats at the end of a row beside the lake as he made his way to his own seat near the back. He could hear the chatterings of multiple languages as people whispered to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell moving fill all of the seats.

Cornelius Fudge walked past him heading toward the front rows, his expression miserable, twirling a green bowler hat in his hands. Rita Skeeter had a notebook clutched in her hand, a quill poised and ready to begin writing. Dolores Umbridge, with an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toad-like face, had a black velvet bow set atop her iron-colored curls. At the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away.

The staff were seated at last, Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall. He wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that Dumbledore was dead, and what they really thought about the events that had occurred.

A flash of light in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head, looking around for the source of it. He was not the only one: many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

"Over there," someone said in a hushed voice.

And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language he didn't understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made the hair on Chase's neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As he looked down into the wild faces of the singers he had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore's passing.

The crowd's attention was turned away from the merpeople. Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Chase knew had to be Dumbledore's body.

He found his gaze turning away from the half-giant carrying Dumbldore's body to settle on Harry. The other boy's face was crumpled with grief, his friend Ron's face white and shocked. Tears were falling thick and fast down Ginny Weasley's face.

Chase couldn't clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalized looks from some. Hagrid's eyes looked so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going, as he passed back down the aisle. Chase glanced behind him, jumping a little when he saw where Hagrid was heading and realized what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee, was a true giant, his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Hagrid sat down next to the him and the other giant patted Hagrid hard on the head, so that his chair legs sank into the ground. Chase had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the front again.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. Chase could barely hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to him over the hundreds of heads. "Nobility of spirit...intellectual contribution…greatness of heart..." it did not mean very much. It had little to do with the Dumbledore that Draco and Taryn had told him about. He wondered what words the man would use if he knew how Dumbledore had manipulated Draco, using the other boy's concern for his mother and fiancee to get him right where he wanted him.

He stared out over the lake, towards the Forest, as the little man in black droned on ... there was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They didn't move into the open but Chase saw them standing quite still, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides.

The little man in black had finally stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. Chase waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled into the air and made strange shapes: Chase thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Chase thought, the centaurs' tribute: he saw them turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees. Likewise the merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.

* * *

0o0

* * *

**Brussels**

* * *

The little restaurant was crowded; all three booths, the three tiny tables, and the six stools the lined the stainless steel counter were occupied. The sweet scent of fresh waffles wafted through the room, accompanied by the popping noise of frying bacon.

Ava, Draco, and Taryn sat at a booth nearest to the doorway, and also in a prime position in front of a large glass window. Taryn watched as natives and tourists alike strolled down the crowded streets and envied them. She wished that all she had to worry about was finding the right street, or getting to work on time.

A slender young woman, her brown hair a mass of curls threaded with colorful ribbons, approached the booth. A name-tag pinned to her chest said Dionne. She pulled a tiny order-pad out of the deep pocket of her waist apron, and clicked the end of her mechanical pencil. "Bonjour, que puis-je faire pour vous?" she asked tiredly.

Both girls immediately turned to Draco and waited for him to translate. "She wants to know what you want."

"I want and cinnamon roll and coffee," Ava said.

"I want waffles with strawberries and apple juice," said Taryn.

"Une brioche à la cannelle avec du café, des gaufres avec des fraises et jus de pomme et bacon, oeufs, pommes de terre sautées," Draco said with the ease of someone who had spoken French from birth. He offered the girl a polite smile as she scribbled down their order.

The girls smile in return was bright, and her cheeks grew rosy. "Voulez-vous boire quelque chose avec ça?" Taryn's eyes narrowed as she listened to the girl's unmistakable flirty tone.

"Jus de pomme, s'il vous plaît."

Taryn scowled at the girl, before sliding her hand next to her to lace with Draco's. The sun, as if coming to her aid, chose that moment to shine through the window and hit her ring at just the perfect angle. She had to literally push back a smirk when the girl's eyes landed on the ring, and her expression turned sour.

"Je reviens tout de suite avec cette," the girl snapped, turning on her heel and stomping toward the counter. She viciously tore off the order page and slapped it on the counter. "Claude! Vous avez un ordre," she snarled.

Ava burst out laughing. "Wow, you've really staked your claim, huh? I hope she doesn't spit in our food."

"She had better not spit in our food. Ugh, girls like her piss me off. Yes, my fiance is sexy, but I'm sitting right here! It's not like I'm invisible or something." She turned to look at Draco. "What did she say to you anyway?"

"She asked me what I wanted to drink," Draco said with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. You know I'm not looking at her."

"I don't want to be the bearer of bad news," Ava said, "but you should kind of get used to the way that women treat Draco. Being the descendents of...Him...can come with a lot of perks. And then there's the stuff you just have to learn to deal with. Members of our family sometimes have a strange kind of allure. People just like to be around us. Obviously Draco has it. His 'Allure' is probably a bit stronger right now because because he's so near to turning."

"I wouldn't call almost dying and getting a death date a perk," Draco said.

"It won't be like that forever," Ava said. "If..._when_...He acknowledges you you'll have more power than probably anyone else on the planet, aside from Kieve."

"Maybe, you could actually tell me more about what 'powers' I might be inheriting," Draco said. He pushed back a sigh when he saw Ava's face close. "I know, I know, not until Kieve gets here."

"I wish I could tell you more, but, honestly Gramps is the one you need to talk to about these things. I know the rudimentary stuff, but I doubt anything that I learned as a child would apply to you. My blood is diluted. I'm just an ordinary witch. I wouldn't have even been able to Apparate us here without help from the Xanthous stone. But you, when you reach your full power, I doubt that you'll need a wand or a stone to help you do anything."

"Why couldn't we just go to Kieve's house? Why meet here in a Muggle cafe?" Taryn asked, changing the subject.

Ava grimaced. "Gramps lays wards on all of his homes, and there's no way I can remove them. I'd probably kill myself trying. Since I used the last of the juice in the Xanthous stone to get us in the country, and since Uncle Drakey isn't ready to attempt big works we have to wait. I mean, if I had a choice we wouldn't have _driven_ most of the way here."

"You're not allowed to call me Uncle Drakey," Draco said with a shudder.

Dionne returned with their drinks, a slightly embarrassed look on her face. "Rien d'autre?"

"No," Taryn said in a mollified tone.

Soon Dionne returned with three plates of steaming hot, fragrant food, settling them in front of the correct person.

Taryn poured syrup over her waffles, cut into them, and moaned when the taste of the delicious sweet bread hit her tongue.

"Close your mouth before a bug flies in it," Ava said, giggling at the rapt expression Draco wore as he watched his fiancee enjoy her food. "I told you that the food was good here," she said to Taryn, deciding to be polite and to ignore the surprising blush that rose in Draco's cheeks.

Draco applied himself to his food, making short work of the eggs, bacon, and potatoes; taking a break from his own plate to accept the bite of strawberry and waffle that Taryn gave him.

He heard a car pulling into the parking lot. Judging by the magical snap, like a rubber band against his wrist, and the fact that he could see them through the windshield of their car, he knew his brother had arrived.

They slid out from the booth, leaving more than enough money to take care of the bill plus a generous tip, and quietly walked out of the restaurant.

"Grammy! Gramps!" Ava said, running forward to hug first Shui then Kieve. Taryn thought it was going to be sometime before she would get used to the girl, who looked older than her grandparents, calling them such.

"Glad to see that you both in one piece," Kieve said, eying Draco and Taryn.

The pretty Asian girl turned to Draco and Taryn. "It's nice to finally meet you. I didn't think that I would be meeting a sibling – a human one that is – of my husband's again, if ever. I'm Shui," she said with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you too," Taryn said.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

* * *

**THE DAILY PROPHET**

Shipping Magnate Nigel Davis Pleads for Daughter's surrender

**Tuesday July 1, 1997 – Bathsheba Malone**

The father of Accused Accessory to Murder, Tracey Davis made a desperate plea for his daughter's surrender.

"Please, Tracey, come home," a distraught Nigel Davis implored during this exclusive interview brought to you by The Daily Prophet. "I know that we didn't part well, but your stepmother and I would like you to come home and surrender yourself to the proper authorities."

Aurors remain baffled as to the exact nature of the involvement of both Tracey Davis, and her fiance Draco Malfoy in the events leading to Dumbledore's death. What is certain is that the couple were indeed there when the beloved Headmaster met his untimely end. More than one thousand tips have poured into the ministry from all over the world with claims of sightings of the runaway couple.

"At present no charges have been filed against either Mr. Malfoy or Miss Davis," said Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office. "We would like them to come in for questioning."

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Magic, for Wizarding kind, is an ability. A talent; one that can be enhanced with tools, practice, and study. Although there have been, and will continue to be, powerful witches and wizards born into this world; they will never be as powerful as you and I. Our power is as natural as breathing, laced into our very blood," Kieve said, his footfalls quiet against the paved drive.

Draco ignored the sound of the car idling behind them, his attention riveted to the massive entrance standing in front of him. The wrought iron gates were comprised of a pair of large main carriage gates flanked by pedestrian gates, each surmounted with its own monumental crown. The carriage gates were at least twenty feet tall, crafted with scrolling curlicues upon which creeping ivy grew lushly, obscuring the view of the grounds beyond. Smooth light colored stone of a like height made up the walls that surrounded the estate, stretching on for miles in the densely wooded area.

"The wards I layered around this estate are both apotropaic and defensive. Unfriendly spells are rebounded upon the caster. Incantations meant to force entry are rendered null, dissipated, and the power used to implement them is recycled and grounded into the stone, strengthening the wards once more. My blood and my will assure it. Since my blood was used in its creation, a blood sacrifice is needed to loosen the ward," Kieve said, his lips quirking at Draco's sharp look. "Oh, nothing as dreadful as what you must be imagining. I don't intend to sacrifice any poor woodland creatures. My own blood, and yours if you will allow it, should suffice."

"Why do you need my blood?" Draco asked.

Kieve pulled small leather sheath from his coat, from which he drew an equally small silver athame. "Your blood will ensure that the wards will recognize you in the future. You will, of course, need to learn the spell I used in conjunction to the blood magic. It is actually a simple phrase spoken in Ta'ghauos, the language of our father's kind. Knowledge of Ta'ghauos is but one of the gifts that you will receive after you have been granted your birthright. It is one of our most powerful gifts; words that contain much more power than the bastardized Latin that forms much of the incantations that wizards and witches use."

Kieve swiped the sharp blade across his palm, cupping his hand and allowing the blood to pool there. "Here," he said, handing the blade to Draco.

Draco quickly ran the edge of the sharp blade across his palm, pushing back a grimace at the sharp pain.

"Now, place your hand against the gate," Kieve said. He gripped part of the iron gate with his bloodied palm, watching as Draco followed suit.

As soon as his hand closed around the iron, Draco felt the metal begin to vibrate as strongly as a tuning fork. A sound like sizzling sounded as his blood literally sank into the twisted metal.

"Arro rla' soagh, noam rloa rra'ra'é o ro na'aurra'am. lio o r'a'mca'o à auo noamao," Kieve chanted softly.

The language was melodic, almost musical, and registered with Draco. He didn't know exactly what his brother was saying, but it was strange. Almost as if he'd heard the language before and forgotten it.

"Let me heal your hand." Kieve's voice broke Draco's silent musings, pulling him back to the present.

Draco rested his hand in his brother's, jumping a little when his hand began to tingle. He watched as the skin of his hand knitted neatly back together without pain. "Neat trick," he said.

"One of the benefits," was all Kieve said in reply.

The gate parted silently, revealing a long, tree lined graveled path leading to the house.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Shui, obviously proud of her home, explained the history behind its conception on the drive up the the gigantic stone home.

The design of the main house, which was called Caerfyrddin, was an Italian Renaissance plan influenced by a patrician villa called Villa Foscari located in Mira, a municipality in the province of Venice, Veneto, Italy. The structure of the house was steel-reinforced masonry faced with the finest Croatian limestone. The facade boasted many decorative arches, balconies and terraces. The main door was located between two arched open spaces with large inset windows to the side. Small angelic sculptures decorate the arches.

The grounds were formally landscaped with exotic plant and tree specimens and patterned gardens. A stable and carriage house were built separately a mile away from the main house. The sun glinted brightly across a greenhouse set off in the distance.

The estate design consisted of a roofed central courtyard with the first and second floors opening into the central space. There were four floors in all, not including the basement. The fourth four containined rooms for the house elves. Taryn's mouth dropped open when she was told that the house added up for a total of sixty rooms. She knew it wasn't as large as say, Hogwarts, but it was massive for a private home.

There was a two-story kitchen was in a separate wing on the first floor enclosed behind sealed doors so that no fire could escape into the house. Just beyond that was a butler's pantry containing a twelve foot vault for silver and china storage.

Upon entering the house, Taryn noticed are two receiving rooms on either side of the hallway. A throwback, Shui explained, from when it was popular and proper to separate visitors of the opposite sex.

The fifty foot high great hall showcased a curving grand staircase. Alternating engaged and freestanding columns surrounded the room. Gold leaf decorative molding gilded the ceiling with a _sotto in su_ painting in the center.

"I wish you both were here under better circumstances," Shui said to Taryn. "I would have loved to give you a tour, we haven't been here in a few years, and its really one of my favorite of our homes."

"Its very nice here when the house is filled with family," Ava said with a smile. "I always liked it when Mom, Dad, and I would visit. Grammy is right, you're missing out on the full effect. There's a maze, and even a lake for swimming and boating right here on the grounds."

"There will be other times for more pleasant visits," Kieve promised.

A house elf suddenly popped in existence in front of the small group. "Ah, sir, Alair did not know that you would be arriving today."

Taryn looked over the house elf, smiling a bit in satisfaction at the smart waistcoat the elf wore, though she did wonder how Kieve had gotten his elves to accept clothes.

"I didn't have the time to sent word," said Kieve, "We had originally planned to visit much later. Events have pushed the schedule ahead somewhat. Don't trouble yourself, or get the other elves into a tizzy. We can show ourselves to our rooms and we won't require a large supper tonight. Something simple would be nice."

"Of course sir," Alair said, bowing before silently popping away once more.

"Tonight I plan to tell you everything about what you are and where we are going," Kieve said as they walked up the stairs.

"When will we be leaving for Selsenle?" Draco asked.

"As soon as possible," Kieve said, looking over his shoulder as they strode down the lush runner that ran the length of the marble hallway. "The best time to travel between realms is at sunrise. We will use tonight and tomorrow to prepare."

* * *

0o0

* * *

The bedroom that Draco and Taryn were were shown to was bright and airy, with white and muted gold wallpaper and a white bedroom furniture in the Louis XV style. An adjacent walk in closet matched the décor of the bedroom. The bedroom also had its own adjoining bathroom with a large marble bathtub and a separate, beautifully tiled shower.

"All of this is rather overwhelming," Taryn said, sitting on the edge of the bed once the were finally alone. She studied Draco's face. "How are you doing with all of this?"

Draco ran his hand through his hair, leaving furrows in the bright strands. "As well as can be expected I guess. I just hoped that I would have more time to wrap my head all around this. I don't feel good about leaving now. Especially when I don't know where mum is."

Taryn reached out to catch Draco's hand, pulling him down to sit next to her. "I know what you think about Dumbledore, but I don't think...I hope that he did right by your mother. You know that I'll help you find her, but first we have to make sure you'll be healthy enough to do that. I didn't get to know your mother very well, but I'm sure that she would want you to take care of yourself before you even attempted to find her."

Draco frowned. "About Dumbledore...I'm sorry that I had to put you through that. I didn't like the man, but I know that he was special to you."

"I'm just so confused about his motives," Taryn said. "I don't know what I think about him anymore. I feel sort of bad saying it, but I just don't want to think about him at all right now. I know that we will have to deal with it after we get back from..Selsenle, but for right now I just want to concentrate on being ready for tomorrow evening." She hadn't spent as much time with Dumbledore as well as Harry had, but she thought she'd known what sort of person he was. Now, with everything that had happened, she had been forced to recognize that she had barely known him at all.

* * *

0o0

* * *

The most dramatic room by far was the dining room. It looked at least is two stories high, and Taryn couldn't image how many feet. Twelve blue and rose alabaster columns supported gilded carved cornices. Small masks on the ormolu capitols and life-size figures are set against murals of classical scenery around the room. Gold leaf ornament was used all through the room. Two Baccarat crystal chandeliers, made of thousands of crystal balls, were hung from the ceiling's steel understructure. Twelve matching crystal wall sconces with dancing fairy lights provided warmth to the room, with their gleaming light. The dining table was massive, composed of carved oak, with matching chairs made specifically for the room and covered with blue damask.

Taryn had been glad when they had merely walked through this room, turning into a much smaller, but just as sumptuously decorated dining room.

"The other dining room is more for parties and formal gatherings," said Shui. "We usually eat in this smaller room, because its far more comfortable and closer to the kitchens."

Supper was simple as Kieve had asked. A chicken stew, served with warm bread and a fresh salad. For desert there was a simple chocolate cake.

It was during desert that Kieve finally began to speak on the topic that Draco and Taryn were so interested in hearing.

"I was eleven when I began to search for my father," Kieve began, "with me I took one of my mother's most trusted servants, a man called Padrig. I didn't have much to go on, only legends and rumors. It was difficult to separate the truth from lies. Many a wife that had found themselves bellyful of a child not of their husband's seed had claimed the child to be fathered by 'the old god' or 'the nameless one' as he was called. He was thought to be a demon, an incubus, which is probably where that theory of my birth originates." Kieve paused to take a sip of his wine.

"How do we differ from other wizards?" Draco asked.

"We are much more powerful, just by right of our birth. After receiving our birthright we rarely have a need for wand or spells, and can simply will things into being. There isn't much we _can't_ do, though each nephilim has his or her own particular talents. We are generally very intelligent and learn quickly, often mastering skills in our youth far faster than a normal wizard or witch would. We are all physically attractive. I've never met a nephilim that wasn't. We all have Allure, which can be a bloody nuisance when you don't know how to control it, or the best thing ever when used correctly. We heal rapidly, even before we turn, and are rarely sick. There are many, many benefits to being a nephilim, which I guess is why so many of us die of the fever. It's almost as if nature, or God rather, demanded that there would be a balance," Kieve said, reaching over to take a sip of his wine.

"You said that each nephilim has a talent," Taryn asked. "What is yours if you don't mind me asking?"

"I can draw energy from the elements and shape it to whatever use I need. Its how I was able to build the wards surrounding this house. It was one of my more ingenious creations."

"How did you find your way to Selsenle?" Taryn asked, changing the topic.

Kieve laughed. "I would never have been able to find my own way there, or to any of the other realms ruled by Watchers. Thankfully, during my years of fruitless searching, I had made a name for myself. Well, enough of a name to pique the interest of another child of a Watcher. His name was Seth, and he was from Egypt originally. He was, of course, a wizard as well. He taught me everything I know about what it means to be what we are. He's never given me a clear story about how he discovered his origins, and the stories that he does tell contradict each other depending on his mood. I've never pressed him about it. He's proved himself as a trustworthy friend time and again, and if he would rather keep the circumstances of his birth private, well its his right. I can never repay him for showing me how to pass through realms. You'll meet him tomorrow."

"How are we going to do that" Draco asked, " pass through realms, I mean?"

"We'll Apparate there," Kieve said, laughing at Draco's disappointed look. "Well, its a little more than your standard Apparition. Blood, as with any big work that involves a nephilim is required, as well as a spoken spell in Ta'ghauos."

"That's it? Apparition and a spell?" Draco asked with a frown. "I was thinking...well that it would require a bit more than that."

"Hey," said Kieve, "You don't know how easy you've got it. It took me two days of chanting that spell, which I had to learn by listening to Seth. You don't realize how hard it was. One misspoken syllable and you're knocked out if you're lucky, and a pile of charred bones if you aren't. You get to benefit from my _adjustments_ to the former ritual."

* * *

0o0

* * *

The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other's chests; then, recognizing each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking briskly in the same direction.

"News?" asked the taller of the two.

"The best," replied Severus.

The lane was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high, neatly manicured hedge. The men's long cloaks flapped around their ankles as they marched.

"Thought I might be late," said Yaxley, his blunt features sliding in and out of sight as the branches of overhanging trees broke the moonlight. "It was a little trickier than I expected. But I hope he will be satisfied. You sound confident that your reception will be good?"

Severus nodded, but did not elaborate. They turned right, into a wide driveway that led off the lane. The high hedge curved with them, running off into the distance beyond the pair of impressive wrought-iron gates barring the men's way. Neither of them broke step: In silence both raised their left arms in a kind of salute and passed straight through, as though the dark metal were smoke.

The yew hedges muffled the sound of the men's footsteps. There was a rustle somewhere to their right: Yaxley drew his wand again, pointing it over his companion's head, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock, strutting majestically along the top of the hedge.

"He always did himself well, Lucius. Peacocks..." Yaxley thrust his wand back under his cloak with a snort. "Got knocked down a few pegs after the Dumbledore mishap. Son on the run...absent wife...poor Lucius," he said, a smirk playing across his mouth. The smirk was wiped clean after he received a dark look from the shorter man.

A handsome manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights glinting in the diamond-paned downstairs windows. Somewhere in the dark garden beyond the hedge a fountain was playing. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as Snape and Yaxley sped toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though nobody had visibly opened it.

The hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the walls followed Snape and Yaxley as they strode past. The two men halted at a heavy wooden door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Snape turned the bronze handle.

The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The room's usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls. Illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror. Snape and Yaxley lingered for a moment on the threshold. As their eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light, they were drawn upward to the strangest feature of the scene: an apparently unconscious naked female figure was hanging upside down over the table, revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope, and reflected in the mirror and in the bare, polished surface of the table below. Her long brown hair hung limply in the air, dull and matted. Thin black chains were wrapped around her body artistically, and could almost be called beautiful if one ignored the fact that the metal seemed to be sinking into her flesh, burning and charring the skin where it touched. Curiously, there was no smell to accompany the macabre decoration that was obviously burning the woman's skin. None of the people seated underneath this singular sight was looking at it. It was as if the woman wasn't there at all.

"Yaxley. Sssnape," said a high, hissing voice from the head of the table. "You are very nearly late."

The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at first, for the new arrivals to make out more than his silhouette. As they drew nearer, however, his face shone through the gloom, hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical. He was so pale that he seemed to emit a pearly glow.

"Ssseverus, here," said Voldemort, indicating the seat on his immediate right. "Yaxley — beside Dolohov."

The two men took their allotted places. Most of the eyes around the table followed Snape, and it was to him that Voldemort spoke first.

"So?"

"My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall."

The interest around the table sharpened palpably: Some stiffened, others fidgeted, all gazing at Snape and Voldemort.

"Sssaturday...at nightfall," repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon Snape's black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently fearful that they themselves would be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze. Snape, however, looked calmly back into Voldemort's face and, after a moment or two, Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.

"Good. Very good. And this information comes —"

"— from the source we discussed," said Snape.

"M'lord."

Yaxley had leaned forward to look down the long table at Voldemort and Snape. All faces turned to him.

"M'lord, I have heard differently."

Yaxley waited, but Voldemort did not speak, so he went on, "Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen."

Snape was smiling.

"My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible."

"I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain," said Yaxley.

"If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain," said Snape. "I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry."

"The Order's got one thing right, then, eh?" said a squat man sitting a short distance from Yaxley; he gave a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there along the table.

Voldemort did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upward to the body revolving slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.

"M'lord," Yaxley went on, "Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy —"

Voldemort held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.

"Where are they going to hide the boy next?"

"At the home of one of the Order," said Snape. "The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest."

"Well, Yaxley?" Voldemort called down the table, the firelight glinting strangely in his red eyes. "_Will_ the Ministry have fallen by next Sssaturday?"

Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders. "M'lord, I have good news on that score. I have — with difficulty, and after great effort — succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse."

Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbor, Dolohov, a man with a long, twisted face, clapped him on the back.

"It is a ssstart," said Voldemort. "But Thicknesse is only one man. Ssscrimgeour must be sssurrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will ssset me back a long way."

"Yes — my Lord, that is true — but you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down."

"As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest," said Voldemort. "At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Sssaturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done while he travels."

"We are at an advantage there, my Lord," said Yaxley, who seemed determined to receive some portion of approval. "We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately."

"He will not do either," said Snape. "The Order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place."

"All the better," said Voldemort. "He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far."

Again, Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, "I ssshall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Sssome of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs."

The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them, by his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter's continued existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him.

"I have been careless, and ssso have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I ssshall be."

At these words, seemingly in response to them, a sudden wail sounded, a terrible, drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downward, startled, for the sound had seemed to issue from below their feet.

"Wormtail," said Voldemort, with no change in his quiet, thoughtful tone, and without removing his eyes from the revolving body above, "have I not ssspoken to you about keeping my pet quiet?"

"Yes, m-my Lord," gasped a small man halfway down the table, who had been sitting so low in his chair that it had appeared, at first glance, to be unoccupied. Now he scrambled from his seat and scurried from the room, leaving nothing behind him but a curious gleam of silver.

"As I was sssaying," continued Voldemort, looking again at the tense faces of his followers, "I understand better now. I ssshall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter."

The faces around him displayed nothing but shock; he might have announced that he wanted to borrow one of their arms.

"No volunteers?" said Voldemort. "Let's see . . . Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore."

Lucius Malfoy looked up. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"My Lord?"

"Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand."

"I..."

Malfoy glanced around the table, taking in the lowered eyes of the other guests. When it became apparent that no help would come from them, he put his hand into his robes, withdrew a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort, who held it up in front of his red eyes, examining it closely.

"What is it?"

"Elm, my Lord," whispered Malfoy.

"And the core?"

"Dragon — dragon heartstring."

"Good," said Voldemort. He drew out his own wand and compared the lengths. Lucius made an involuntary movement; for a fraction of a second, it seemed he expected to receive Voldemort's wand in exchange for his own.

The gesture was not missed by Voldemort, whose eyes widened maliciously.

"Give you my wand, Lucius? _My_ wand?"

Some of the throng sniggered.

"I have given you your liberty, Lucius. I haven't killed you despite your son's failure and disappearance. Your wife has also left for parts unknown and I have not punished you for this. Is that not enough for you? I trust it isn't my presence in your home that displeases you..."

"No — of course not my Lord!"

"Sssuch lies, Lucius..."

The soft voice seemed to hiss on even after the cruel mouth had stopped moving. One or two of the wizards barely repressed a shudder as the hissing grew louder; something heavy could be heard sliding across the floor beneath the table.

The huge snake emerged to climb slowly up Voldemort's chair. It rose, seemingly endlessly, and came to rest across Voldemort's shoulders: its neck the thickness of a man's thigh; its eyes, with their vertical slits for pupils, unblinking. Voldemort stroked the creature absently with long thin fingers, still looking at Lucius.

"Why do you look so unhappy with your lot? Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing you professed to desire for so many years?"

"Of course, my Lord," said Lucius. His hand shook as he wiped sweat from his upper lip. "I did desire it — I do."

"My Lord," said a dark woman halfway down the table, her voice constricted with emotion, "it is an honor to have you here, in our family's house. Despite my sister and nephew's absence, I want to assure you that we believe that there is be higher pleasure." Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could not demonstrate her longing for closeness.

"No higher pleasure," repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. "That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you."

Her face flooded with color; her eyes welled with tears of delight. "My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!"

"No higher pleasure...even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?"

She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused. "I don't know what you mean, my Lord."

"I'm talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud."

There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks; a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth wide and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant were they at Bellatrix and the Lucius' humiliation.

Bellatrix's face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red. "She is no niece of mine, my Lord," she cried over the outpouring of mirth. "I haven't set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with me, nor does any beast she marries."

"What say you, Lucius?" asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, it carried clearly through the catcalls and jeers. "Will you babysit the cubs?"

The hilarity mounted; Lucius' face flushing darkly in humiliation at the insult.

"Enough," said Voldemort, stroking the angry snake. "Enough."

And the laughter died at once.

"Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time," he said as Bellatrix gazed at him, breathless and imploring.

"You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest."

"Yes, my Lord," whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude again. "At the first chance!"

"You shall have it," said Voldemort. "And in your family, so in the world . . . we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain..."

Voldemort raised Lucius' wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against the thin black chains.

"Do you recognize our guest, Ssseverus?" asked Voldemort.

Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity.

As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!"

"Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

"For those of you who do not know, " said Voldemort. "We are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

There were small noises of comprehension around the table. A broad, hunched woman with pointed teeth cackled.

"Yes...Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles...how they are not so different from us..."

One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape again. "Severus...please …please..."

"Sssilence," said Voldemort, with another twitch of Malfoy's wand, and Charity fell silent as if gagged. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, ssshe says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, sssays Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance...She would have us all mate with Muggles...or, no doubt, werewolves..."

Nobody laughed this time: There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldemort's voice. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from him again.

"Avada Kedavra."

The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs.

"Dinner, Nagini," said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood.

* * *

Translations for the curious:

Arro rla' soagh, noam rloa rra'ra'é o ro na'aurra'am. lio o r'a'mca'o à auo noamao – With my blood, and by my will and power. I command you to open.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

* * *

The little house elf popped next to Taryn and Draco, peering at them with large brown eyes. She, it wasn't hard to figure out the sex of the elf because of her outfit, was wearing a peach and lace edged drop waist dress with a matching bow perched over her right ear. She smiled at them. "Hello, Sir and Miss. My name is Deni. I apologize for not being there to show you your way back to the petite dining room, but it looks like you made it here okay. If you need anything just call for me. I'll be your personal elf during your stay."

Taryn smiled. "Were you responsible for the clothes that we found in the drawers? Because I have to say they're perfect." Taryn and Draco had been prepared to wear their clothes again – after a Scourgify or two – and had found their clothes missing. After a quick search through the room, they had found replacements in just their sizes. Draco wore a pair of distressed, dark wash jeans, a charcoal colored henley, and sturdy black boots. Taryn wore a pretty yellow shirtdress belted with a light brown leather belt and cute matching leather ankle boots.

"I'm glad that Miss and Sir liked the clothes," Deni said. "I've been told to tell you that the Master and Mistress will be down shortly and that you should order breakfast for yourselves if you like. Is there anything that you would prefer?"

"I'll have a bagel and strawberry cream cheese and some hot tea," Taryn said.

"I'd like a spinach omelet and whole grain toast with orange juice," said Draco.

"I'll put your order in with the kitchens. Please call for me if you require anything else," Deni said, before bowing and popping out the room.

"I'm so going to ask Kieve how he gets his house elves to wear clothes," Taryn said as soon as the little elf had left. "I wonder if they are getting paid?"

"Maybe," Draco said, "but I doubt it. A big old house like this? Probably generations upon generations of elves have been living here. You know they get insulted if you offer to pay them."

"Yes, I remember that," Taryn said with a frown, remembering her short lived S.P.E.W organization.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," Shui said, as she and Kieve walked into the room and settled into chairs across from the couple. Shui looked bright and cheery. Her hair was pulled into a high bouncy ponytail and she was wearing a pretty white blouse and swishy looking navy pants. Kieve looked comfortable in jeans and a dark green t-shirt. Taryn could hardly believe that the the couple had grown children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

"We haven't," Draco said. "We just ordered breakfast."

"Good," said Kieve. "Today is going to be pretty busy. I thought that we could spend the morning getting you both ready for what you can expect to see in Selsenle. We will break around lunch time, Seth should be here around then, and then rest until early afternoon."

"We have to get you both properly outfitted," said Shui. "Clothing is very important in Selsenle. It indicates your rank and status. The family you belong to, or your favor with the Emperor, Kokobiel, can be easily determined by the clothing you wear. In fact, its a punishable offense to wear colors, fabrics, and styles outside of your station. Many of those of lower stature don't even wear clothing."

"Sounds like a caste system," Taryn said. She tapped a finger against her mouth as her brow wrinkled a bit in thought. "Are Draco and I going to be considered part of your family?"

"I'm going to claim you both," Kieve said, "You'll be allowed to wear my personal family color, Ca'faoar, which is a cobalt blue shade. After Father claims Draco he will be allowed to wear the Imperial family color. Father's color is Silver. Depending on his favor and your standing you'll be offered something in a shade of silver. The color I'm allowed wear as his eldest favored son, and that Shui wears as my wife, is a pure metallic silver. The shades darken the further down the family 'totem pole' you are."

"I'm not surprised by the color choice," Draco said, nodding at Kieve's streaky silver hair before tugging a bit on his own metallic locks.

Kieve chuckled. "Yes, well, only direct offspring have the silver hair and eyes. It's really another indicator of your parentage. You'll see several people with the streaked hair, making it fairly easy to tell who your siblings are. You and I, as Father's part human children, get the short end of the stick with the whole birthright thing. His other children, most of them anyway, live in Selsenle and aren't part human. They don't have to deal with nearly dying at sixteen if they aren't acknowledged."

"Family is the umbrella under which all the other classes reside. There are four different Roaáas, or divisions, of Selsenle society. They are Sa'rcaom, Pmaos, Dooarom, and Caurarroao," said Shui, the foreign words rolling off of her tongue with ease. "Sa'rcoams are the warriors of the realm and the highest class. Both women and men are allowed to join this class if they show proper martial prowess. Pmaos are the scholars of the realm. Within the Pmoas class are the teachers, advisers and keepers of knowledge. Dooarom is the trade class. It is, of course, made of merchants and the like. They procure items from the human realm and trade with other Watcher realms. Caurarroao is the agriculture and labor class, and is mostly comprised of everyone else not of the three other classes. Kieve can tell you much more about the Sa'rcaoms."

"Being a prince of the realm didn't guarantee my entry to the Sa'rcoam rank," said Kieve. "It took me two years training before I was even considered as an applicant for Sa'rcoam training. Sa'rcoam training, after you are accepted, takes another three years."

Draco sat forward, his face colored with interest. "What kind of training?"

"It's as rigorous as the U.S. Special Forces, Spetsnaz, with a sprinkling of SAS. You also have to have magic," Kieve said, a completely serious look on his face. "Magic, in tune with bladed weapons, are used during warfare. Sa'rcoams are the most respected class because we maintain the safety of the realm. There is always the threat of in-fighting between the Watchers and so we always have to be ready. I doubt that I will ever be Emperor of Selsenle. Father can only be killed by another Watcher or the Creator. I have many duties as Crown Prince, but my most important job is not one that I was born to. I am my Father's Chief Strategic Adviser during times of war, a title that I worked extremely hard for. I had to work twice as hard as the other applicants because of my 'disadvantage' of being part human," Kieve said with a scowl. "I only gained the Chief Strategic Adviser title after I was able to manifest a flaming sword by will alone."

Taryn pushed back an inappropriate smile at the thought of Kieve wielding a light saber, asking a question instead. "Like the flaming swords in the bible?"

"Not really," Kieve said. "As the son of a fallen angel my sword isn't divine. Any sword I create will never have the impact of a sword wielded by an angel still in possession of the Creator's Grace, no matter what Kokobiel claims."

"I might be interested in training," Draco said, interrupting the conversation before Taryn could pull Kieve into a deep history lesson.

"Spend some time considering it," Kieve said, "but don't make any hard and fast decisions. I trained before I met and married Shui. I don't regret it, but it is something that has taken me away from my wife and children on more than one occasion."

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Its just this way," Shui said, turning down yet another lavish hallway. Taryn followed quietly behind her, her gaze lighting on the elegant paintings that graced the walls.

They finally stopped in front of a dark polished wooden door. The door opened into a small, circular room painted a soft, creamy white. There was a tiny table in the center. A clear, crystal vase sat in its center and was filled with blue flowers that perfumed the small space with a sweet, citrusy scent. Three doors painted the same soft white color stood opposite from the table.

"These our our closets, well the ones that hold the clothes that we wear when we aren't in this realm. The one to your left has garments that we wear in Selsenle. We do, of course, have more clothes in our home there as well. Since this is such an important visit, and I doubt that the men will be concerning themselves with this, I thought that you and I could take this time to choose proper garments," said Shui.

A brief knock sounded against the door before it opened, revealing a sleepy looking Ava. Ava's thick curly hair was pulled into a big high bun. She looked cool and comfortable in a clover green peasant skirt and a white lacy blouse. Her bare feet peeped from beneath the skirt, showing glittery green painted toes. "Morning Grammy, Taryn. Sorry I missed breakfast."

"That's okay," Shui said. "You didn't miss much. You already know the history lesson."

Ava yawned. "Do you think maybe Sera will bring me– "

Just then an elf wearing a little purple dress and matching hat popped into the room. "I have your doughnut and coffee miss," she said with a smile. A small table popped into being beside her and she sat the saucer containing the doughnut and the cup of steaming coffee on its smooth surface.

"Oh my God," Ava said, reaching over to take pick up the glazed doughnut, and taking a huge bite. "You're awesome Sera," she said, mumbling around a mouthful of bread.

The elf beamed. "Thank you miss. Call if you need anything else," she said before popping back out of the room.

"Mmmm," Ava said, sniffing the fragrant steam wafting over her coffee cup, before taking a sip. "Just enough cream and sugar."

Shui smiled at her granddaughter's obvious enjoyment. "Ava, I'll need you to help with our hair if you don't mind," she said. "Also you'll be staying here for this trip."

"What?" Ava's disappointment and the way her face dropped was almost comical, reminding Taryn of the sad faced dog from the cartoons she'd watched as a child.

"We'll need you to keep an eye on things here," Shui said, "and to alert the rest of the family if need be."

"Okay," Ava said with a frown. "You should get on with the clothing choices especially if you want me to do your hair. You know its going to take the most time. I trust magic only so far when it comes to hair."

Taryn turned to Shui, a brow risen in question.

"Ava does hair for a living," Shui said.

"For runway shows," Ava explained further. "I've learned to do hair quickly for the most part, but braiding you and Grammy's hair will take a while. You can't rush perfection," the girl finished with a smile.

Shui walked over to the door to Taryn's left, and motioned the other two girls into the walk-in closet.

Taryn had thought that Tracey was a clothes horse, but Shui had her beaten by miles. The 'closet' was circular, painted a pale mint color, with white crown molding. A bright crystal chandelier hung in the center of the white painted ceiling. The room had three levels. The first level was made of white painted drawers, interrupted by full length mirrors and vanities. In the center of the room was a round island with drawers lining its sides, larger at the bottom and slender and smaller at top. A round white couch surrounded it, providing additional seating for that particular level. The second level consisted entirely of shoes, and the third was a racks and racks of clothing and shelves of folded items. All of it was arranged according to color.

"That door to your immediate right is a full bath," Shui.

"Grammy's closet is awesome right?" Ava said. "I used to have so much fun playing dress up with my cousins in here."

"I can see how it would be fun," Taryn said, goggling at the sheer amount of clothes.

"Most of the clothing worn in Selsenle is rather...brief, due to the tropical climate," Shui said as Taryn and Ava followed her up the two short flights of stairs to the third level. "You'll wearing a thigh length skirt, with a halter type top. Over that a thin robe is worn. It's not really a cover up, so I hope you aren't overly modest."

Taryn's brow rose. "Will all my important bits be covered? I don't want to be gallivanting about showing it off to all and sundry."

Shui laughed. "You'll be covered as much as you would wearing a bikini, a little more than, I should say what with the bikini's girls wear now."

"Grammy, you were alive before they even had bathing suits. Even before they called them 'bathing costumes'," Ava said, laughing at her Grandmother's mock appalled look. "Grammy is almost as old as Gramps," Ava said by way of explanation.

"I kind of figured that," Taryn said, "since you were the Lady of the Lake."

"Psht," Shui said, "I was barely Lady of the Lake long enough to gift Arthur with Excalibur. I actually trained to be the Lady of the Lake far longer than I actually held the title."

"Really?" Taryn said, her nerd senses tingling. "That's how you met Kieve right? Through Arthur?"

"No, I met him before all that. Kieve made a pilgrimage to Avalon to receive a blessing, which was a tradition for magical folk at the time. We met when I was merely an initiate. At the time I barely gave him the time of day. He was so cocky and arrogant," Shui said, a fondness in her tone. "We were friends first. It wasn't until later that it developed into more. I had to give up the title to marry him. No Lady of the Lake is ever allowed to be married. Taking lovers is allowed, even encouraged, but marriage is a big no. The Order of the Lake is probably the oldest feminist organization on Earth. I'm still a member, but I can never again hold an office."

"That seems kind of sad," Taryn said.

"Its fine," Shui said. "When I fell in love with Kieve, when I realized how serious it was becoming, I made my peace with everything. I love my husband, children, and grandbabies. I wouldn't change a thing."

Shui walked over to a nearby rack, pulling what looked like a necklace of layered strings of beads from a hanger. "This is the top part of your outfit. Don't worry," she said at Taryn's wide eyed look, "the thin blue fabric behind the beads provides you with coverage."

She pulled down a white skirt. "The men wear bottoms much like this, just a bit longer, almost knee length. Both are held up with a belt," she said, producing a heavy looking blue metallic belt. "Under the skirt you get to wear small kickers, so you don't have to worry about flashing...well you know. Over everything you'll be wearing this," she said, pulling out a swath of semi-transparent blue fabric. "Its called a sufa. It rests over one shoulder, and clips onto your belt. Most of the 'status' of our clothing stems from the color and accessories. Your 'blouse' is also jewelry. Most go barefoot, but sandals are also worn. Your hair will be braided and decorated."

"What will you be wearing?" Taryn asked, looking doubtfully at the 'clothing' Shui had just described.

"The same thing, just in silver," Shui said. "The men have it easy. They get the kilt, belt, and sufa. They also wear arm cuffs. Metal ones for the rich, leather or braided fibers for the poor. The cuffs are also an easy way to ascertain rank."

"Come on," Ava said, reaching down to grasp Taryn's hand. "We need to get started on the hair. Its going to take the most time."

Ava let Taryn back downstairs. Taryn watched as the other girl pulled out her wand and spelled a hair dressers chair near the door to the bathroom. The other girl hurried to the bathroom, her large bun bouncing. She came back with a large pink case, opening it to pull out a spray bottle of sparkly gold liquid.

"This will give you shine and hold. You'll have to use a mild Scourgify to loosen the product before washing your hair. It keeps humidity and water from ruining your style until you're ready to get rid of it," Ava said, motioning Taryn into the chair.

A light vanilla and raspberry scent rose in the air after Ava sprayed the 'hair spray' in her hair.

"You have nice hair," Ava said, pulling a brush through the thick length. "This is going to be fun."

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Selsenle was created by Kokobiel many millenia ago. I'm not sure when exactly. It was obviously sometime around the event of man, after which many of the Watchers fell. It is from Kokobiel that we get our chief power. The power to will anything into being. We cannot, however, create realms ourselves. It seems that is a power that the Fallen keep for themselves," Kieve said, morning light streaming down through the high windows of the room, making the silver locks in both of the brother's hair gleam.

Kieve opened a cabinet, revealing row after row of exquisite swords. "You will be called to prove yourself in combat. Kokobiel respects warriors. If you prove yourself a worthy opponent then he will most likely grant you his acknowledgment. I hope you can fight with a sword brother, because it is quite possible that you'll be using one."

"I can handle myself," Draco said, pulling a katana with a deep red lacquered handle from its stand. He stepped back, checking the sword's balance, before moving through a series of fluid forms. He felt his emotions calm as he moved through the familiar stances. A small smile quirked on his lips.

"Hmm, you seem rather comfortable," Kieve said, a little relief in his voice. "I thought that you might be trained. How long have you fought with bladed weapon?"

"I began learning sword and knife fighting on my ninth birthday," Draco said. "A sword was the only gift I received from Lucius that day."

"Lucius Malfoy," Kieve said, nodding. He smirked at Draco's look. "You didn't think I had you investigated? You might be my brother, but I wouldn't have let you near family without knowing more about you first. I didn't realize that you would be so well trained. I can tell you are just from what you showed me. It is, after all, part of my job to recognize skill and potential in warriors." Kieve pulled another katana from its rack. "I think that we have some time before lunch to go through a few styles that you can expect to see from whoever you're paired against."

Draco simply nodded. "I'm ready when you are."

* * *

0o0

* * *

Draco, Kieve, and Seth were waiting in the small dining room; resisting the urge to build themselves sandwiches from the cold cuts, cheeses, bread, and fixings laid out on the sidebar against the wall as they waited for the women to arrive.

"How long does choosing clothes take?" Seth asked with a groan. "I'm starving."

Draco laughed. "I wouldn't say anything about how long it took if I were you. You don't want to get your head bitten off do you?"

Seth sighed, metallic golden eyes glinting in annoyance.

Draco would have known what the other man was even if Seth hadn't had the characteristic metallic features. It seemed that those of the blood were able to recognize each simply by touch. Draco had felt the buzz of power against his skin when the other man shook his hand. Not shaking hands, Kieve explained, was rudeness at best or grounds for a fight at worst. It told the other person that you didn't trust them enough to reveal yourself, or that you felt you were powerful enough that you didn't feel the need to declare yourself.

Seth was handsome like every other offspring of a Watcher. He had long black and gold streaked hair, pulled into order by a low braid that ended at the small of his back. His skin was an warm tan and his features were chiseled perfection.

The girls soon arrived, bringing with them a sweet scent of vanilla. The men all stood, waiting for the girls to get to the table.

Seth was staring at Ava, making the girl blush a little. "Tell me that this isn't Taryn," he said before anyone could make introductions. His eyes never moved from Ava, giving the girl a intense look from head to toe.

"No," said Taryn, moving to give Draco a kiss on the cheek. "I'm Taryn. You must be Seth?"

"Yes," Seth said, his eyes still on Ava.

Kieve cleared his throat. "You remember Shui, of course. This is Ava Saro-Wiwa my _great-granddaughter_," he finished with a glare at the other man.

Ava rolled her eyes at Kieve. "Nice to finally meet you Seth. I've heard many stories about you."

"You aught to have," Kieve said under his breath. "The man is _centuries_ older than you."

"Gramps!" Ava said, embarrassment coloring her voice.

"Why don't we eat?" Shui said, motioning everyone over to the side bar. "I'm starving, aren't you honey?" she said to Kieve."

"Yeah," Kieve said grudgingly.

* * *

0o0

* * *

"Your hair is nice," Draco said. He waved his hands at Taryn's hair. "I like the braids and the...barrettes?" His eyes took in the braided side style and the fragrant blue flowers braided into Taryn's shining cinnamon hair.

"It looks nice," Taryn said, kicking off her shoes and socks, wriggling her suddenly free toes before falling back onto their bed, "but it took bloody forever." Draco took off his own shoes and socks before he slid onto the bed next to her. She turned on her side, propping her head on her hand to look at him. "Just wait until you see what I have to wear. You get it so easy. A kilt, armbands, and robe. I get beads and a few scraps of fabric."

"Shit! I really have to wear that bloody kilt?" Draco frowned. He had told her about the vision he'd had when he was ill. Seemed more like a premonition in retrospect.

"Hmmm, not really minding the thought of you in a kilt," Taryn said, leaning over to press a kiss against Draco's lips, feeling the frown melt away. "It sounds pretty sexy."

She giggled when he reached over to tickle her side, before gently pushing her onto her back. He eased over her and kissed the laughter from her lips. He nuzzled his nose against hers before pulling back slightly. "Taryn?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was suddenly hesitant at the serious look on his face.

Draco swallowed. "Tonight we're going to be leaving, going to a place that we barely know anything about and...shit...I can't tell you how glad I am that you'll be going with me," he stopped, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I know I said that I would tell you this when I was worthy but I guess I'm too selfish. I don't know what is going to happen tomorrow and I just want you to know...that I love you. I fuckin' love you so much. I can't even _breathe_ without you."

Taryn was biting her lip during his confession. Her arms rose to wrap around him, and she grinned. "I love you too Draco."

Draco smiled, his expression suddenly light. He leaned down again, touching his lips to hers. It was a gentle kiss, light, but soon deepened with sensual promise. He drew back, pulling his tee over his head, and they both did that awkward dance of disrobing while in bed before lying back down.

"You're so gorgeous," he said, murmuring against her lips. His lips nibbled at hers teasingly, before deepening the kiss once more, his tongue twining with hers in passion.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies even closer, relishing the feel of his skin against hers. Her lips broke from his and she arched her back with a moan, rubbing her breasts against his chest.

He loosened her embrace, before leaning down to press hot kisses down the line of her throat. He touched her breasts lightly, circling around the nipples, smiling when they tightened in arousal. She stiffened as sparks of pleasure ran through her body, a mewl escaping her mouth. She made no effort to stifle her pleasured noises, she knew that they drove Draco wild.

Taryn sighed in pleasure, her eyes closing as Draco traced his fingertips lightly down her abdomen. He moved down, laying a kiss against her stomach, his warm lips seemed to leave a hot trail against her skin. He moved back up her body, his mouth blowing a warm breath over her left nipple, before drawing the taut bud into his mouth and softly sucking.

"Uhh," she gasped as she felt his tongue circle her nipple, before gently flicking against it. As his mouth moved over to the other nipple she felt his hand softly moving down her stomach tracing gentle circles as he went, and she parted her legs to allow him access.

His fingers circled around her clit, ripping another moan from her throat, before gliding down further to press inside her.

"Uhhh, oh Draco," she sighed, as two fingers skillfully glided in and out of her. Her hips began to dance, as she thrashed against the bed, pleasure building and building. "Oh my God. I'm gonna–" her sentence broke off and she gave a kittenish moan as she came, her body throbbing in delicious sensation.

"Fuck baby," Draco said, his mouth moving to claim hers.

Her legs widened, cradling his hips between them, and he positioned himself; poised at her entrance. He kissed her again. "I love you," he said, before gliding smoothly inside her.

Her hands moved gently up and down his back as he moved slowly inside of her, riding her with rolling rhythmic thrusts.

"Take me Draco," she moaned. "Its so...oh my God its so..." she broke off, arching her back as his movements quickened. Her breaths came in quick gasps as he pistoned within her body. Her nails began to scratch down his back, and she couldn't stop herself. Tension built higher and higher, coiling like a spring until it burst. "Ohhhhhh fuck," she wailed coming hard. "Don't stop...Don't stop," she came again, her body writhing under him. She shuddered as spasms of pleasure played through her body.

He felt her contracting around him, his body tensed and then he groaned, coming with a quiver.

For a moment they lay still, catching her breath, before he gently withdrew and pulled her close to him.

Suddenly he chuckled. "How the hell did you hair stay neat through all that?"

Taryn joined him in laughter.

* * *

0o0

* * *

Draco looked at Taryn's outfit with hot eyes, taking in everything. On the one hand, he absolutely loved the outfit, and wanted her to wear it again and again. On the other hand, other men would see it. He certainly didn't like that thought one bit.

The beaded top clung to her curves, the blue beads glinting in the light. The top fastened around her neck and back where a bra clasp would. The blue shimmery fabric behind the beads kept her modesty intact. A pure white thigh length skirt, held up by a chunky metallic blue belt circled her hips. Over that was a blue semi-transparent robe.

"Stop frowning," Taryn said, pecking his lips. "You don't see me getting a sour face over your outfit, and I know that they'll be women eying you. Inhumanly beautiful women."

Draco's outfit was the dreaded white kilt, but his belt was metallic blue as well, unlike the silver belt in his 'dream'. Blue armbands, made of the same material as the belt circled his muscular biceps. An opaque blue robe came over his shoulder and clasped to the belt. He also wore plain blue circlet, denoting his brothers favor.

They both wore blue gladiator sandals, Taryn's more delicate and feminine, that laced up their calves. They both still, of course, wore the silver torques.

"They can look," Draco said, "but you know who I'm coming home with."

Taryn smiled. "I do know. Come on, we have to hurry."

They apparated downstairs to the dining room, where Kieve said everyone would be waiting. The other couple was wearing silver versions of the outfit that they were wearing. Taryn's eyes spied the silver knotwork pattern that circled the couple's right wrists.

Seth stood next to them, dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white shirt with boots, a satchel strap slung over one shoulder.

"Why aren't you dressed?" Draco asked.

"Because I'm not coming. I'm simply assisting with the ritual, then I'll be staying behind with Ava," Seth said with a grin.

Kieve looked anything but happy at this. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by his wife. "Just this way," Shui said, leading them through the kitchen and into the butler's pantry.

Kieve opened the door to the wine cellars, and they moved carefully down the narrow stone steps. The walked past shelf after shelf of wines before arriving at the rear of the room.

Draco was unsurprised when Kieve cut into his palm before placing it against the stone wall.

"Ya'aum La'mc a'rlrloacs iya'au a' a'no," Kieve said, his eyes closing in concentration.

The wall glowed blue for a moment, before a section dissolved revealing a circular archway.

As they walked through the archway, Taryn was surprised when her feet moved against the softness of green grass. Light, a warm golden light, shone down, diffused through the tops of green leafed trees. The sweet scent of apples was in the air, flowing around them in a light breeze, but it was the large stone circle directly before them that claimed her attention.

"That looks like–" she began.

"Stonehenge," Draco finished, "but complete."

Kieve laughed. "Stonehenge bloody wishes it was this. Stonehenge is a copy, a rather shoddy copy of a Ca'mragh, a tool used to draw upon the Earth's power. I don't even think that even one of us could use Stonehenge to travel. Its energy, what little it had in the beginning being made by humans, has been tampered with for centuries by curious visitors. This Ca'mragh was built by Seth and myself and has only been used by nephilim."

"Hmm," Taryn said. She made a mental note to question Kieve or Seth, whichever she could pin down, at length about the construction and uses of the Ca'mragh at a later date.

"Well, I guess we should get this show on the road," Seth said, striding across the lawn into the center of the Ca'mragh.

Draco watched as the other man pulled out several white pillar candles, handing them to both Kieve and Shui to arrange in a smaller circle within the henge. They lit the candles, and the candles began to let off a heavy fruity scent.

"Here," Kieve said, handing Draco a piece of heavy paper upon which was a phrase of phonetically written Ta'ghauos.

Draco read it a few times before trying it out, Kieve correcting his mistakes several times before he got it correct. "Shit, I'm glad this phrase isn't long," he said irritably.

Seth laughed. "You tell him how lucky he is Kieve? You got the scaled down version." Seth dug into the satchel he wore, pulling out a heavy silver goblet and handing it to Kieve.

Kieve sliced into his palm once more allowing thick drops to plop into the cup. Draco was handed an athame from Seth and quickly slashed his palm, mingling his own blood with his brothers. Kieve healed his hand, and then the cup was passed back and forth, each brother taking a swallow, until it was empty.

"We need to sit in a circle, hands clasped," Kieve said. They sat down on the 'sun' warmed grass, and clasped hands. "Taryn, you and Shui will need to remain quiet, but please concentrate on helping us connect with Selsenle. Your magic won't help us travel realms, but the intent will. Seth will be outside our circle, lending his strength to the ritual. He will be circling our circle, keeping his eyes open for problems. He can assist if something should go wrong."

"Now, Draco repeat after me. Kokobiel, Erlnoma'm a'r Selsenle, La'mc a'r nroaos, Pmao a'r Soams, ghmoa aus omiy," Kieve said.

After a few sentences their cadence matched each others perfectly.

Draco felt almost dizzy as the air grew close, perfumed with the cloying scent of the candles. He closed his eyes against the sensation. It sounded like the ocean was in his ears, loud and roaring, blocking out his brother's voice, and still...he chanted.

The world seemed to pull taut, before loosening. Suddenly the grass below him grew hard, and he clutched at Taryn's hand. The hardness grew cooler, and damp. He was sitting on stone.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking as they got used to the dim light of a cavern.

* * *

Translations

Ya'aum La'mc a'rlrloacs iya'au a' a'no – Your Lord commands you to open.

Kokobiel, Erlnoma'm a'r Selsenle, La'mc a'r nroaos, Pmao a'r Soams, ghmoa aus omiy – Kokobiel, Emperor of Selsenle, Lord of planets, Prince of Stars, grant us entry.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

* * *

Kieve held out his right arm, staring at his upraised palm until a speck of white light began to form. He allowed the speck to grow until it was the size of grapefruit, rising into the air to better light their path. He motioned for them to follow him, warning them to lower their heads as they passed beneath a ceiling scalloped by eons of floodwater. The air was humid and rivulets of water ran down the rough cave walls. The floor was carved with shallow, regularly spaced grooves to provide traction for sandaled feet. Kieve explained that the cavern, which was his personal entrance to the realm, was located in a little traversed portion of the Killaraus Mountains. It was a private portal to Selsenle, known only to Kieve's immediate family and Kokobiel himself.

A wide, underground river quietly lapped against the clearly defined path that spanned the distance in front of them. They had entered a larger cave, the awe inspiring natural formations giving the space as much majesty as a man-made cathedral.

"It's lucky that we met during the dry months," Kieve said, "During the wet season the Trelu River can rise nearly three hundred feet during a flood. It fills this entire cave, forcing me to use a different, less private entrance during those times."

They soon emerged from the darker cavern into a huge cave lit by sunlight. Moss-slick boulders ringed the forest-shrouded entrance.

"These caves are enormous," Kieve said, "but practically invisible until you're right in front of them."

...

The Imperial City of Selsenle was actually the largest island in string of volcanic atolls. Incredibly diverse, Imperial City was a magnificent hodgepodge of rainforest, mist-shrouded granite spires, mangrove swamp forest, and coral reef.

Like a giant sleeping dragon, the dark green ridges of the Imperial City rise up above the waters of the South Tmoadauar Sea. On closer inspection, it becomes clear that the dragon's dark green scales are in fact giant trees and impenetrable jungle; that the grey claws are giant granite boulders and that the dragon's horns are twin peaks with smooth, straight cliffs, surrounded with swirls of mist.

Lush tropical jungle covers nearly a third of the island, and countless freshwater mountain streams and waterfalls helped to sustain the people and many species of animals thrived there. Emerald cliffs rise dramatically from pale-sand beaches. The waters around the island are crystal-clear, filled with corals of all shapes and colors and home to a vast diversity of sea creatures. Many of the most beautiful beaches on the island, elegant curves of golden-white sand, were tucked away at the edges of villages. The most wondrous beach of all, Kieve explained, was situated next to his own private residence, though he did allow that the one next to the Imperial Palace was nice as well.

Long distance Apparition wasn't allowed within Selsenle, a precaution against invading armies. A zilicaum, or zili for short, was the accepted form of travel for those with means. Since Imperial City was quite a walk from where they had first appeared deep within the Killaraus Mountains, the zili was also the fastest way to their destination.

A zili was a vehicle that vaguely resembled a flying saucer from a 1950's science fiction film. It was a strange combination of organic, modern, and magical elements that somehow managed to blend together seamlessly. The floor was almost like textured stone, constructed in a circular pattern. There were no doors, they had simply walked through the domed walls and ceiling, the material hardening behind them. Six chairs were rooted to the floor, again in a circular pattern. There wasn't a control panel or console, Kieve simply stated their destination and the zili quietly rose into the air beginning their journey.

It sped through the thick tropical forest, zigzagging around large trees so fast that Draco and Taryn would have been alarmed if Kieve hadn't assured them that the it was perfectly safe. The zili, in fact, had far less of a mortality rate than a muggle airplane would. Draco had taken his word for it, far preferring a quicker route to Imperial City than the days it would take them if they had to travel by foot.

Draco pressed his hand against the smooth glass-like material, running his fingertips down the cool surface, leaning his head back against his seat to stare through the clear, domed ceiling. Sunlight was trying in vain to peek through the heavy canopy of leaves topping the tall trees that surrounded them.

Inside the zili he couldn't feel the thick humidity that had settled against their skin as soon as they had stepped beyond the entrance of the cave and onto the jungle floor. The air that flowed around them was cool, chilled by an air-conditioning mechanism that was as quiet and efficient as the zili itself.

There wasn't any conversation, and as the zili broke from the trees, flying briskly over a wide, impressive river, Draco allowed the thoughts he hadn't allowed himself to entertain surface.

Draco was angry. Anger was something he was familiar with, something that he used or worked against on a daily basis. He was angry, no furious, with his mother. He hated that she had kept something so life changing - his paternity - a secret. At the same time, he somewhat understood her reasoning behind keeping it a secret. Lucius wasn't a forgiving person. Draco didn't want to think that Lucius would have harmed Narcissa, but he wouldn't put it past the man. His mother might have been afraid for her life, or indeed afraid for Draco.

He felt Taryn's hand glide over his, her fingers lacing their hands together, and he turned to her with a small smile. At least he had her.

* * *

0o0

* * *

**Monaco**

* * *

Claudette Mercier picked up the box-cutter, slashing it through the clear tape that sealed the box of perfumes. She unwound the bubble wrap circling each bottle before carefully, and artfully settling the bottles on mirrored display shelves. "So, have you heard from Roger since the divorce went through?"

The pretty older woman looked up from the piles of brightly colored cardigans she was folding to answer the girl. "No, I think he's finally realized that I don't intend to take him back," Marie said, frowning a bit at the mention of her ex-husband.

"You're better off I say," Claudette said, "though it's a little disheartening to hear that someone as pretty and sophisticated as you still had someone cheat on them, and even got the little tramp pregnant to boot!"

"It's not that I didn't want to have children," Marie said sadly, "We tried for years. I just think that maybe it just wasn't to be." She smiled faintly at the thought of children. She had wanted them. Desperately. A little boy or a little girl, it wouldn't have really mattered to her either way. Roger had always spent so much time away with his work, and she would have loved having someone to dote on. A son. A sudden flash of bright platinum hair, a grin on a chubby toddlers face, and a glimpse of grey eyes whisked through her mind, followed by a pinch of pain.

Marie rubbed her temple, wincing a bit at the pain there. She'd been having the headaches for the past few weeks. Almost as long as she'd had the job at Mercier, the small boutique owned by Claudette and her mother Honore. The headaches happened every time she thought about her past, and so she'd learned not to probe too deeply. She was a little concerned about the headaches, and had promised herself several times to go and see a doctor as soon as she earned enough money. Unfortunately, most of her funds went to the small apartment she was renting, food, and utilities. After that there wasn't much left over.

Not that she minded. She absolutely loved her independence. It was like she was free from chains that had bound her tightly to responsibility, and if sometimes she felt a little...incomplete, well she supposed it went with the territory. She assumed that most recent divorcees felt the same.

The small bell over the shop door rang, pulling Marie from her thoughts. "I'll get that," she said, calling across the small store to Claudette.

"Hello. Welcome to Mercier. My name is Marie. Is there anything particular that I can help you find?" Marie smiled at the teenage girl standing in front of her.

The girl had big dark blue eyes and dark hair pulled up into a sleek French twist. She looked cool and comfortable in a pretty dress that matched her eyes, topped with a white jacket. "No, I think I'll just look around a bit if you don't mind," the girl answered in English.

"Okay," said Marie, easily switching over to English, "Just let me know if you need any help."

Marie went back to her task, folding cardigans and trying to ignore the thread of unease that curled in her stomach.

She was so intent on her task that she jumped a bit in fright when Claudette tapped her shoulder. "Sorry," said Claudette with a laugh, "I didn't mean to give you a fright. I just wanted to let you know that I was going to step out for my break and get a coffee. Would you like me to bring you anything?"

"A cappuccino would be great," Marie said, "thanks."

"I was wondering if you have this shoe in blue," the girl called, holding up a white sandal.

Marie headed over to the shoe display. "I think we do Miss, but I'll have to check in back to be sure, if you don't mind waiting."

"Not at all," said the girl.

Marie turned away, walking behind the counter and to the back storeroom. She pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to push back the unease that had settled into her stomach. Settling the footstool near a back shelf, she silently hoped that Claudette would return sooner rather than later.

"Having trouble?"

Marie gasped, her hands grabbing for the shelf to steady herself. "This is an employee only area," she said, her voice sharp with alarm, "you can't be back here. When my boss gets back-"

"You don't need to worry about that," the girl said, waving her hand. She clucked her tongue, "it's sad to see you brought so low. Working in a muggle clothing shop." The girl sniffed in disgust and shuddered delicately.

Marie stepped down from the footstool. "I think you have me confused with someone else."

The girl's blue eyes went steely, and a very unpleasant smile spread across her face. "I know exactly who you are Mrs. Malfoy, and please, call me Pansy."


End file.
